Cupid's Bow
by Prolific Novice
Summary: Bella was content with her already-planned-out-life... and then they dropped her into Oblivion. Now, she must go in search of the Thing while trying to avoid the scandalous inhabitants... but that's easier said than done. Updates every (other) day until complete!
1. Prologue

**Cupid's Bow**

**Prologue**

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I stand at the top, looking down at the world far, far below me.

"You're up," the Watcher next to me intones; bored, impatient.

_As if I didn't already know. _

I stare queasily at the long drop down, my stomach full of knots. I take an unconscious step back, only to be pushed forward by the queue behind me.

"Come on!" says a voice from behind, but I don't dare look away from the fall. "Some of us are aiming to get to the next world _today_!"

I ignore them, instead looking at the Watcher out of the corner of my eye. "I don't like heights," I whisper, trying not to tremble and failing. I guess it was sort of ironic considering we lived so high up in the clouds... but I'd never had to _face_ the bottom before.

Their reply is an eye roll. "Try to land on your feet," they say, voiced bored again, like it's been said a hundred times over today – which it probably has. "It'll be less painful."

Then, with any further ado, I'm pushed over the edge, and into Oblivion.

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**A/N:**

**Yay! New story!**

**This is going to be a 12 or 13 part little ditty, and I know this because I only have the last two chapters to write up. (I actually _planned_). I originally wanted to post this as a one-shot, but it was getting too long. I also originally wanted to post this as a lead up to Valentine's day (hence the name) sort of thing, but alas, I underestimated how much I was going to write (and how long it was going to take me, welp). **

**Not to worry if you're reading my other stories, as this won't interfere with them. Like I said, I've written this one in advance, so it's all good. **

**A note on updates: this story will update once or twice every day, or every other day, depending on how generous I'm feeling ;), so no waiting!**

**That's all, thanks for reading! I hope you'll join me on this trip into Oblivion. :) xo**


	2. Chapter 1

**Cupid's Bow**

**Chapter 1**

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I do, in fact, land on my feet. Though I don't stay that way for very long.

The shock and adrenaline coursing through my veins has me toppling over in no time. When my butt hits the plush underneath me, I watch the Stream hovering around me retract and shoot back up into the sky. The pain that accompanies its departure is excruciating, adjusting to new atmosphere and pressure and air, and of course, the realisation of the fall.

Tears spring forth, and I curl myself into a tight ball, gasping breath back into my chest as I fight the building urge to just… _just_…

But I don't. The last thing I need right now is to let _Them_ know I'm here.

I lose count of time as I lie there, but when the worst of the pain begins to subside, I pull myself up. I grit my teeth at the jostling, clenching my hands into fists in the weird softness below me. Grimacing at the feel, I pull them away quickly.

After tumbling myself to my feet, every step I take is accompanied with a quietly hissed, _ow_. The ground is too soft, providing no traction, no grip. It's so… so _ill-defined_ that I expect every foot-fall to be my last.

"Clouds belong in the sky," I mutter queasily, cringing as my foot hits _nothing_ once more. "Not on the ground."

As I pass – no real route in mind – I glance periodically around me, searching for any sight of the Thing to no avail. _The deeper you travel, the closer you'll be_, was all I'd been told about its whereabouts. I hate cryptic, but they were pushing me over the edge before I could ask for something more substantial.

So I have no choice but to just… _keep going._ I'd turned inward, assuming I'd been set at the shallow, but how was I supposed to really know? They had given me _nothing_; no navigator, not even a plain paper map – just abstract words and a bleary understanding.

I try to avoid looking as much as I can while still looking for the Thing, but it's difficult. It's too coloured, too soft, too _infinite_. The relief I feel at finding it all rather disturbing rather than enamouring is what keeps me walking, really. I'm still cursing everyone back on Earth (well, the few people who'd sent me here, at least) but I manage to keep the angry muttering to a minimum.

They (meaning _we_, but not really) call it Cupid's Bow. I just call it Oblivion.

More time ticks over, and I'm startled by the ever growing brightness of the day, and even more so by the ever _increasing heat _– such as I've never felt before. My skin feels positively flushed as I pause on the clouds to take a breather. My hand forms a shield as I hold it above my eyes. It's too bright, too hot. Discomfort takes hold of my body and throat as my clothes start to stick, my mouth to dry.

"Oh no," I whisper, panicked, when I swipe my hand across my face to find it covered in sweat. _Sweat_, for crying out loud!

Addled, the only thing I can remember then is that I'm losing water, and becoming dehydrated is very, very bad. So logically the thing I have to do is –

"Find water," I whisper.

Despite the heat, the sudden urgency kicks my limbs into action until I'm running – where else? – deeper into Oblivion.

**OoOoOo**

**OoOoOoOo**

**OoOoOo**

I run until the dryness in my throat becomes painful, and then I run some more.

I thought it was my vision clouding and tunneling around me when the world started to grow narrower, but after a while I realise the world actually _is_. Soft and green brush against me as I push through, dragging over my sweated-through clothes. And it seems all of a sudden to get dimmer, though hotter at the same time.

Panic is at the forefront of my mind, and I can't tell whether it's sweat or tears that blur my vision. But it doesn't really matter _which_ it is, just that it_ is _one of them.

_What's a bit more water? _I think, choking back the hysteria burning my throat.

To distract myself, I try to think of all the names I'm going to call Banner and Birdy and the whole damn institution once I find the Thing and am back in the blessed land of _normal_. Unfortunately, that doesn't last long, as all of the really mean words (and really nice ones) were locked away and hidden all those years ago.

_Rude_, is mostly what I come up with.

I want to stop for a minute but I'm worried I won't able to start up again if I do. So I carry on running, and sweating, while my eyes work mile-a-minute, simultaneously searching for water and for the Thing I need to find to go home.

And then _something_.

Something glitters in the corner of my eye.

I immediately come to a standstill, but the sudden loss of momentum wobbles me, and I trip over my own two feet into the softness below. For the first time, I feel grateful for it, because with sturdy ground, that probably would have hurt.

I freeze as the glitter sparkles in my vision, clearer this time. Instinctively, I tilt slightly and crawl a little closer, my fast heart only going faster as I –

_Water!_

Clear and shining in the too-bright brightness and glinting like something I've never seen before. But it doesn't matter. Water's water, right? I try to see a little better. It's weird looking, oddly sparkling with facets of colour… but it's definitely water.

Almost giddy, I creep through the green, never losing sight of it as I crawl through the ground-air. As I get closer, the fire in my throat seems to burn hotter, so aware that relief is so close. Sweat still drips into my eyes and down my neck, but for the first time since it started I don't care because there_'s water_! A whole pool of it!

I'm _almost_ there when I hear a noise, and I freeze.

Melodic giggles swell around my ears as I crouch there, hidden beneath green, enclosed by yellow and purple and blue and red. Panicked, my gaze leaves the pool and darts to the left and right of me, breath catching when I see.

When I see _Them_.

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**A/N: Are you ready for Them? **


	3. Chapter 2

**Cupid's Bow**

**Chapter 2**

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The brochures for _Cupid's Bow_ all boast about the stunning scenery, the out-of-this-world colour and the high-rise temperatures that make it, apparently, 'the place to be!'

What they fail to mention, however, are the inhabitants.

That's not to say that no one knows, though. In fact, it's the one of the main reasons why people come here. It's just that it's kept on the down-low, hidden from the wider, more public reaches of society, and kept in hushed conversations, or secret writings passed under tables.

So no one knows, but everyone really does. And it's created two separate groups: those who pretend to be outraged but can't get over the edge fast enough, and those who are_ actually_ outraged.

I fall into the latter.

So when I was told that this was to be my place of assignment, for the first time in my life, I kicked up a _fuss_. Shock had followed my absolute adamancy that I wouldn't go, but in the end it was all for naught. What had I gotten for all my efforts? Points retracted from my spotless record and an impatient push.

Apparently, _I don't want to go_ was not a valid reason to, well, _not go._

But right now, staring at the four figures in the harsh light, I'm pretty sure they couldn't have been more wrong.

Tall frames, crazy tall, _not-of-my-species_ tall, are all stretched out upon the bright colourful _nothing_. I've only ever seen them on scattered bits and pieces of paper, so for a moment I'm stuck-startled by the first-glance _humanness_ of them... forgoing their height, of course.

But that quickly fades.

My eyes widen and I can't help but recoil at the sight of all that _skin_. So much of it. And _all_ of it on show. I'd never seen a human like that... knew that I _would_ never. And they're so _close_ to one another, not _practically_ touching but very much _actually_ touching. It makes my widened eyes bug, my mouth drop because... well. It's one thing to accidentally overhear about it, but entirely another to witness it first-hand.

Noise reaches my ears again, and I can see now that the giggle came from one of the females. I watch, my heart jumping, as she leans down towards one of the males, hands touching and grasping in ways I can't make sense of. My face burns as I watch him move up towards her in response, skin free of everything but each other. I quickly turn my head, scurrying backwards before I can see anymore.

I place my hand over my chest, my lungs whining with the effort to breathe.

_I need to go_, I think, and my body agrees wholeheartedly.

Tumbling myself onto my feet, my eyes can't help but seek out the water one last time. Unequivocal _need_ fills me as I stare at it, but I know I won't step out of this cover, because I really, really don't want to be seen by Them.

All of those hushed tales fill my head as more giggles break the air, and my skin goes hot again as I start backing away from the pool.

_There has to be more around here somewhere_, I think. _I might even find the Thing first, if I'm lucky. _

"Bye salvation," I whisper mournfully, not even being dramatic, watching the sparkles ripple in goodbye, feeling my throat cry out and my skin to become so aware of its stickiness once again as I –

_Ripple?_

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**A/N: This is probably the shortest chapter of the lot, sorry! **

**Sorry too if you're feeling confused. Answers to why things are the way they are and the like will be leaked through rather than just unceremoniously dumped on your lap in a couple of paragraphs. It takes away all the intrigue!**


	4. Chapter 3

**Cupid's Bow**

**Chapter 3  
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On Earth, the first and last time I'd ever been surprised was when they'd told me they were dropping me into Oblivion.

Every other single aspect of my life had been expected, pre-determined, if you want to be really specific about it. I had been told and taught and assigned, and I'd been shown the path my life would take. Routine was what we lived by, and routine was good. Routine was normal. _Safe_.

But that changed the day they switched me, suddenly realised that the life I'd been living should have been assigned to someone else.

When had they made this error? The day they'd created me in a test tube.

So that's twenty years. _Twenty years_ it took for them to realise that, _hey_, _I think we've made a little mistake here._

Only it wasn't little. It was my already-planned-out life, and they'd destroyed it in an instant.

I remember being frozen when they told me, frozen in the line to the drop. I froze at the sight of Them, so that's how my surprise, my shock, manifested. I'm still not accustomed to the feeling, so my feet grow real, proper tree roots as I stand there, watching the water come to _life_.

The sparkles on the previously calm tide start to slowly rise, forming around a single block that should be impossible for it to do. But as I watch, it only grows taller, taller, _taller_, until it sprouts a _body_.

My dry throat catches my sounds as the glinting stops being so see-through, and becomes real-life _flesh_. Arms rise up and sweep through the little waves, creating a tsunami that splashes down across bright burning hair, sending little shards of glitter dripping down onto a real-life _face_.

My gasp draws the water from my already dried-out tongue.

At that, I watch as eyes snap open through the wet. My hands immediately clap themselves over my mouth, terrified. Because colour infuses his gaze, and it brings the rest of him to life.

He's one of _Them_.

Surprise quickly morphs into fear as I watch his eyes look into my cover, like he's looking right at me. I hope beyond hope that I'm too far away for that, that all he can be seeing is the colour and the green, so much more prevalent than the typical grey of my clothes – covering me toe to neck, with the addition of a hat hiding my hair away.

But the more I think about it, the more I panic. Clearly, I'm not part of this landscape, so won't that just make me _more_ noticeable?

But fear has the same feeling as surprise – only doubled. So my feet remain rooted. All I can manage to do is drop to the ground again, hands still clasped to my mouth as I try to remain as still and quiet and invisible as possible.

My heart thunders as his eyes drip closed, but I don't dare move a muscle. _Not yet, _I think. _Just wait. In a minute he'll…_

But he doesn't.

He just stays like that, body looking frozen like mine but not. I watch his chest expand when he breathes, each breath seemingly quicker than the last, and his skin shudder with whatever it is he keeps inhaling. He's unsettling to look at, even more so than the other four because somehow he seems _more_, but I can't look away because if I do then I won't know where he goes. And I need him to be going.

_Away_ from me.

All of a sudden, his eyes snap open again, and my fingers fall and tighten in soft when he starts to move.

_Towards_ me.

My body starts trembling as he leaves the water behind. I expect the shine and sparkles to fall from his skin, but bizarrely, they _cling_ to him. Baffled, I watch his skin glisten, looking bright and shiny like something rare and special polished brand-new, as he steps out onto dry land. My mouth falls open as I realise that they aren't part of the pool, but part of _him_.

He's _shining_.

And for a moment, that startles me enough to forget about his nakedness… that's until the sparkling starts to amplify what's so clearly there, outrageously shoving _everything_ into my face.

I have to look away then.

It's so… _wrong_. So… _unnatural_.

Abruptly flooded by memories of the _hush_, I force my body to unstick and start scrambling backwards. I'm looking to the side of me, so I can't tell if he's actually coming towards me or not, but the idea that he could be is enough. _Too much._

My back hits something solid.

Eyes wide at the very first substantial thing I've encountered since being here, my head whips around as far as it can go. I see something deep red before I realise that it doesn't really matter unless it's the Thing and if it is I can come back for it as soon as –

My head spins as I attempt to get my bearings, and then I scream.

**OoOoOo**

**OoOoOoOo**

**OoOoOo**

Quiet conversations, hushed conversations, _empty_ conversations. I was used to the dull inflect of speech; we conversed… it was just what we _did_. But giggling, laughing, sighing, _screaming_?

I never thought I'd do any.

The sound I let out, the _scream_, isn't as shrill or high as I expect. The dryness of my throat makes it splutter, makes it weak and hoarse. In the end, it peters out almost as soon as it starts, ending with about a hundred coughs.

Through watery eyes, I watch the figure so near me wince and recoil, and wish I was able to hold it for longer. Maybe it would have sent Them away all together.

But the shining-him barely backs up any. He's eye-level, because he's on his hands and knees, and my heart skitters around in my chest when he starts inching closer. I let out an involuntary _shriek _when his hand suddenly encloses round my ankle, and I quickly yank my legs tight towards my body.

"D-d-don't – " I want to say, _don't touch me, _but my lips are trembling too much to get the words out.

His head cocks to the side as his gaze fixes on mine, before drifting to my mouth. Paralysed, my insides revolt at the sight of his odd eyes. They're coloured in a way I've never seen, like… like green and gold splashed together. Up close, the facets glinting on his skin form rainbows of colour, over and over again, shooting off every which way. And he's too near. I can feel the zing and pop and sizzle of his body coming too close to mine, and it's making my skin rise in a way it never has before.

_Too much. _

I stop looking at him. _Have_ to.

I drop my head into my knees and tighten my arms around my legs. I can feel the solid sturdiness against my back, but now I find myself wishing for soft. I feel _trapped_.

_Go away,_ I think. _Oh please, go away._

Soft noises suddenly break the stifled air, making my shaking increase ten-fold. I don't know what it means, that gentle murmur, and I don't _want_ to know. I wish I had a badge or something to show, to make Them understand that I wasn't here for –

_Touch_.

My body seizes as I feel the heat of something very _real_ come into contact with my neck – one of the only parts of me that isn't covered. Lungs aching with the breath I won't let out, I feel the expanding of his chest against my legs as he breathes in deeply, the resounding trembles on his skin that after-shock mine.

He lets out another noise again – this one throatier, longer.

A _moan_.

Fear prickles at my scalp, and my palms grow damp with sweat as I feel his nose drift up from my neck to behind my ear. He breathes so, so deeply, and then his fingers are sliding up like the water he was just in slid along his skin. They catch on my hat, which is suddenly just _gone_, before sinking into my hair.

_Too much._

Everything in me short-circuit-overloads at all of that _feeling_. I can count the number of times I've been touched in my lifetime on one hand. We just don't do it. _We don't do it._

So finally unfreezing, I yank my head up so fast it hits hard on the solid behind me. My vision swims for a minute as I register the pain, but I don't give it a chance to disappear before I'm shoving him away from me, not registering the look of hurt on his face as I _finally_ run-trip _away_ from him.

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**A/N: Well, Bella's having an eventful first day, isn't she?  
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	5. Chapter 4

**Cupid's Bow**

**Chapter 4**

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As I blindly vault myself through the forest, I don't fight the tears that slip past my lids. I know I'm losing water but right now I just don't care. I'm sad and angry and just feeling too full of things to be rational about what I need.

Before this day, I don't think I'd ever run this much for anything. Too much exercise was frowned upon. Too much of _anything_ was. Moderation was the key to the preservation of us. Of our quiet, group goodness. I hadn't minded. I was never much of a runner.

But right then, the ache and exertion I feel is more than relief, it's _freedom_. I'm away and flying-through and it doesn't matter that my throat is bone-dry or that my feet are stinging, that my hair is loose or my chest is aching. It doesn't even matter that one of Them spotted me, and is maybe even following me right now.

Because I'm running away from it all, and I'm not stopping.

**OoOoOo**

**OoOoOoOo**

**OoOoOo**

But inevitably, I run out of steam.

I don't so much as make the conscious decision to stop as just _stop_. My feet halt and my legs wobble, and I fall before I can think to catch myself.

Under the heat, I burn.

**OoOoOo**

**OoOoOoOo**

**OoOoOo**

Cold.

Wet.

_Water._

I gasp alive as _relief_ – pure and fresh – slips down my throat in kind, small waves.

My vision is dark as I swallow tide after tide down, feeling my aching throat cry out as its call is quenched. Every little last slip of tightness in my limbs seems to suddenly deflate, leaving me trembling with the left-over.

My eyes flutter when water spills across my lips and slips into my hair. Blinded by the brightness, it takes me a minute to realise _where_, and when I do, I'm overcome by the urge to… to…

"Shhh…"

My eyes _snap _open.

Ripping the sheen abruptly away, the first thing my body does is throw itself backwards – _away_ – or at least attempts to, at any rate. But instead of hitting softness, my body only jolts slightly, but doesn't really move any. I blink too many times and too quickly at the shimmering face hovering so closely above mine, my hands feeling shaky but still pushing at his chest – only to recoil at the feel of his _skin_.

He makes a noise in the back of his throat at my squirming, his eyebrows furrowing. Mounting panic causes me to freeze for a moment, feeling the solid wrapped around me tense and tighten, the splash-colour of his eyes to become impossibly _more_. His intense gaze makes me feel trapped, and out of my peripheral, I just about see something green rise before –

Before I regain mind-body function again.

My squirms increase ten-fold as I try to break away from the something's-grasp while avoiding touching _him_. The green thing that had been rising abruptly slips out of his hand, spilling out fluid onto the softness below. Noises come from his throat again, sort of like _huffs_, as his arm lifts to meet the something-solid behind me. With panic, I realise that it was his _other_ arm. And now they're both – they're both _around_ me.

Again, I freeze.

He stares down at me as I stare up at him. But unlike my widened eyes, his are narrowed, and unlike my quick breathing, his is slow – deep.

Fear rattles my insides as he pulls me closer. I want to push against him, but my hands are caught. So all I can do is feel the unnatural heat of his bare skin through my clothes as he draws me in. His head twitches to the side as his gaze runs over my face… before settling on my eyes again. He looks at me carefully, like he's… like he's trying to… to tell me something?

Slowly, one of his arms unwinds from around my waist, but I'm stuck to his chest now, so close I'm sure the racing of my heart must be racing through his flesh. Without looking away from me, his arm reaches out and dips before returning; green thing in hand.

Warily, my gaze shifts to it as he brings it closer, swallowing thickly when it touches my lips.

Pressing them tightly together, I shake my head quickly.

_No._

A soft whining comes from him at that, forehead scrunching and mouth dipping as I refuse. He holds my tighter, pulls me closer, head lifting slightly as he tries again.

I squeeze my eyes shut and turn my head to the side.

His sounds grow, and my body trembles as I feel the vibrations running through his chest. My breath grows short and my trapped hands curl into fists, thoughts running rampant as I –

Cold.

Wet.

_Water._

My eyes pop open and I let out a startled yelp at the feeling of icy-cold spilling across my cheek, down the sliver of uncovered skin of my neck. Inevitably, my head snaps to the side, and I can only stare in shock at the sight of water-him, pouring water over _me_.

He waves the little green thing at me, and smiles.

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**A/N: I meant to post this earlier but lost track of time while simultaneously baking a pie and watching Community. Sorry!**


	6. Chapter 5

**Cupid's Bow**

**Chapter 5**

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So that's pretty much how I end up drinking water from something weirdly colourful with the aid of a sparkling one of Them.

As soon as the cold liquid hits my throat, I recall the feeling of just that before I properly came to. Embarrassment tinges my cheeks as I think over my reaction, but it soon gives way to incredulity. _Why should I be embarrassed for being suspect over it?_

As I drink, his gaze never leaves my face, and I have to close my eyes because it's making me feel funny.

When the ache in my throat has completely gone, I tilt my head to the side and shake my head again. When his brows furrow, I force a smile onto my lips, trying to show, _that's enough_, not just, _no. _

His frown disappears.

Dropping the water-thingy to the side of him, he makes a soft _humming_ sound in his throat as his arm comes back around me. He smiles, eyes bright, and I tense when he eases me back into the soft.

My heart thunders, thick and wet and heavy, when he crouches over me.

I swallow thickly when the tip of his nose touches mine, my breath beginning to escape in short, frantic gasps. When his cheek brushes against mine, I snap my eyes closed, like it'll make the feel of him disappear, right before his head drops into my neck. A short annoyed grunt escapes him when his nose brushes against fabric, and before you can say _Oblivion sucks, _his hand is at my throat and –

_Riiiiip. _

He _rips _one side of my top from neck to shoulder.

I almost choke on my own tongue.

Lifting a hand, he tugs the fabric away, before really, properly, burying himself in my neck. _Skin on skin. _

He sighs, his chest swelling, and louder than before – _moans_.

_My_ chest heaves up and down – too quickly. _Oh my god _is all I can think_, oh my god oh my god oh my god!_

Before he can do anything more, with all the strength in me, I lift my now free hands and _shove_ him for all I'm worth… which, unfortunately, doesn't appear to be very much, as I only create a tiny gap. But a gap is still a gap, and with it, I let air _whoosh_ into my lungs.

Quickly taking advantage of the narrow space, I slip-slide my body out from underneath his and scramble back on my bum.

Throughout this – and I know because I'm terrified of glancing away from him – he watches me with wide, bewildered eyes.

_Right_, I think hysterically, _like I'm the one acting crazy._

My heart thrums as he remains in his crouch, and, rather than standing up and… _and_… he instead ducks his head low and starts crawling towards me. _Again_.

Panicked, I start retreating once more, wanting to get to my feet but not wanting to waste time in the _getting to_ part. When my back hits something solid, I want to cry out at the unfairness of this stupid world, but instead find my hands backing up it, _quickly_. With something like relief burning in my stomach, I realise I'm _standing_.

I side-step the solid-hard and take one big step back. Then two. Then three.

Under obscenely long, dark lashes, he watches me.

I throw a quick glance over my shoulder, looking into the dense green. When I look back, I jump about ten-feet in the air because he's much closer than he was a second ago.

"Stop it!" I say, voice high and shrill as I tumble further away. I could leg it right now, but he'd already caught me once. He was obviously fast – faster than me, at least – and this was _his_ world, not mine.

So many factors against me… what were my options?

"Don't come any closer!"

Right. _Not very good ones._

My eyes swivel all around me before locking on his heated gaze. My foot catches on something and I _almost_ trip. Every press of his hand and turn of his knee brings him _almost_ to my feet. And I'm still hot and sweaty even if I'm not thirsty anymore, and I'm angry at being sent here and angry at the people back on Earth, and I'm absolutely terrified of the glistening-him in front of me.

I'm feeling too much and I hate hate hate _hate_ it.

"Please," I whisper, because I just want it all to _stop_.

And then…

…he does.

**OoOoOo**

**OoOoOoOo**

**OoOoOo**

Handprints away, he freezes.

I can hear the sound of his breathing he's that close, because the way he halted made me pause, too.

His head has fallen between his shoulders, and I can see the light-bright of his hair tumbling together with the gentle breeze I hadn't noticed before now. He's so still, so _quiet_. My mind's telling me, _go_, but my feet remain rooted with, _stay_.

"Th-thank you," I stammer, and then feel silly for saying it.

Of course, he doesn't reply. My knowledge of Them doesn't extend to whether they have the ability to speak or not, but clearly They have the capacity for sounds. But maybe if he could understand me, _maybe…_

"I'm – I'm going to – " I break off when he looks up at me, his eyes so _different_. My breathing catches and skitters around my chest when he reaches a hand out and places it round my ankle, like he did before. Tightly, I grip the flap of my torn top to me, and carry on, pretending his skin isn't burning me. "I'm going to… go." I swallow. "Now." Then I lift my captured foot and _step back_. And he lets me.

"Bye," I whisper, inching away through the green. "Th-thanks for… for sharing your water with me, I – " I shake my head, close my eyes. "Thank you."

Then I turn around, and walk away.

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**A/N: *sad face*  
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	7. Chapter 6

** Cupid's Bow**

**Chapter 6**

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I falter when I hear them.

Sounds, pained and weighted and sore, vibrate through the softened floor and sink, unrelenting, into my skin.

I grip my top tightly as my breathing picks up, fingernails digging into my skin as I fight the urge to turn around. _To do… what?_ He understood. He _must_ have. I said I was going, and… he let me go. Simple. It's what I wanted… right?

_Right_, I think firmly. _But… I didn't want to hurt anyone. _

The thought, or just that _word_ really, startles me so much I almost tumble. Back home, I'd never had to worry about other people, not in the sense of anything personal, anyway. We were created in groups – or _batches_ – and we stayed that way until the day came where we'd be sent off to do our pre-assigned things for our pre-ready world. I had lived with the same people for as long as I could remember… but I'd never really _known_ any of them. And now suddenly I'm culpable of someone else's _pain_?

Shaking the thought away, I halt on the spot too abruptly, withholding a groan of my own as I scrunch my eyes shut. _Why is this so complicated? _Maybe the truth of the matter is that it _isn't_, not really. I was dropped here with the preconceived notion – judgement – of what I was going to find. I'd heard all the stories, just like everyone else, I knew of Their… _ways_. And I was steadfast in my belief that I would never take part in them – be like _Them_.

_That_ was still firm… but maybe there was more to this place than what I'd originally thought.

His pained moan cuts the air, and I wince.

More to _Them._

So with a resigned puff of breath, I swivel on my heel and start marching back in the _wrong_ direction.

**OoOoOo**

**OoOoOoOo**

**OoOoOo**

I hesitate.

Surprise mixed with something bitter churns in my stomach as I hover some feet away from him, taking in his new position on the soft. He's curled up like a tiny foetus in a test tube, body trembling, as a constant flux of pure _ache_ falls from his mouth in groans and whimpers.

I feel terrible… and confused.

_Did I do that? _

"Hey…" Almost soundless, because my throat feels so tight all of a sudden.

But he must hear me, because his trembling ceases so abruptly, it's like I've flicked a switch under his skin.

Slowly, so slowly, he lifts his head.

His eyes are shiny, wet, _sad_.

My breath leaves me in a great _gust_, rattling my insides as it brushes past. "Sorry," I breathe, not even stuttering.

In reply, he starts to unfurl from his tight position. I hold my ground as he becomes taller again, keeping my breathing steady and even. _It's alright,_ I tell myself. _He's fine. You're fine_.

Once he's fully erect, he ducks his head like he did earlier, though he's still much, much bigger than me – even across the distance separating us now. He doesn't make a move to close it, though, which makes this… _this_, easier, to say the least.

For a minute, I don't say a word, and he just breathes.

"Um…" I eventually mumble-start, fidgeting a little. I take a deep breath, trying to ignore the bizarreness of the situation and instead focus on what I need to do now. But it's sort of hard to do that, when your everything-opposite-and-more is standing in front you. "Um…"

All the while I'm dilly-dallying, he just stands there, glistening and still. Mostly, I appreciate his quiet. But a part of me is stewing in guilt – something I wouldn't even have _considered_ feeling towards one of Them, or _anyone_, before – and it persists like a bad headache. _Did I break him?_ I think, then cringe at my own thoughts because –

He's not a _thing_.

The thought jolts me as much as the concept of _guilt_ and _pain_.

"Bella," I just _blurt_ out, no preamble.

Maybe it's the sudden change in my tone or the _tiny_ step I take forwards, but at any rate, his head snaps up.

Before I lose my nerve, I press a palm to my heart and repeat, "Bella."

I watch his odd eyes flicker down to my hand, then up to my mouth before going back to my hand again. The green-gold lights up with, I think, _recognition_.

His arm lifts, pressing sparkle-studded fingers to his shining-bright chest. "Edward."

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**A/N: :)**


	8. Chapter 7

**Cupid's Bow**

**Chapter 7**

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The conveniently named _Hush _was located in one of the lower-most sections of town. I knew this because for a while, I was a Pidgeon. Most of our information intake and outtake was transmitted through various mediums of technology, but in the poorer (or in this case, _clandestine_) areas, plain old fashioned paper was used to submit messages and the like. Thus, my role (not really _job_ because I didn't get paid for it) as Pidgeon.

In that short period of time, I became privy to really more than I would have liked – _Hush_ was pretty much the go-to place for all and everything about Cupid's Bow. Scattered whispers had made me recoil in horror, while drawings had sent unwelcome shivers up and down my spine. But in all that, I'd never once heard someone mention them _speaking_.

But, I suppose, I hadn't much heard or seen anything besides…

I blink at him, astonished.

I had pondered it earlier, but I'm not sure I really believed…

"Edward," he says again, tapping his chest. His voice is soft and deep, and what's more, _clear_ – like he's used to speaking. Yet, up until that point, I'd only heard him make sounds.

_It's a different world,_ I think. _Different ways._

I'd just never thought about it – besides the obvious – because I never thought I'd be here.

But if I'm to make it home…

…then I'm going to need to.

Giving my head a quick shake, I push steel into my spine as I ready myself for what I'm about to ask.

"Edward." I say his name softly, because that's just the way it comes out. In between my stolen glances at his face, I watch his eyes widen. "Could you – " I break off, swallow, wonder if I'm really about to ask one of Them for –

"I need your help," I blurt.

_I guess so. _

I start to fidget like mad after I've said it; one hand repeatedly flexing and releasing on my torn top, while the other tugs at the damp-curled edges of my hair. My gaze is on the ground now, my heart beating like crazy in my ears, because it's out there now and I can't – can't take it back.

When I glance back up, his head is cocked to the side, his eyebrows furrowed.

_Confused_, I think.

"Um… I'm looking for a – a Thing… but I don't really… I don't really know where I'm going." The truth feels bitter going down, but I forge on. "Do you know where I could find it – the Thing?"

His eyes brighten, like they did before when I said my name, and he said his. Relief runs down my throat and softens my bones as I recognise his manner as one – I hope – of _understanding_.

_He knows where to find it._

"Thing," he repeats, watching me closely as he starts towards me again.

I hold my ground, even though the sight of him approaching – just the _sight_ of him, actually – is still really, really unsettling. I start to tremble when he's only about a foot away, and he drops his head again.

_Why_? I think, only briefly though, because he's suddenly holding his arms out in front of him.

I start at him, dumbfounded.

Now _I'm_ the confused one.

After a minute of, well, _nothing_, he peeks up at me from beneath his lashes.

Meeting my confused glance with one of his own, he nods his head behind me, uttering a quiet, "Far." Then, taking an insistent step forwards, and dropping his eyes to his arms before looking back into mine, "Carry."

My mouth drops.

Heart racing, and taking a quick step backwards like he'll pick me up anyway if I move too slowly, _I_ insist, "I can walk."

He seems to hesitate for a moment, inhaling deeply before letting his breath shudder out. Eventually, he lets his arms fall. He nods his head.

"So." I let my eyes turn away, swivelling my body to the side as I glance into all that green. It's easier to pretend to be normal when I can't see him. "This way?"

He hums, low and throaty, before I feel the heat of his skin scorching me. I keep my gaze fixedly ahead, trembling through my steel-enforced spine. I feel his hand on my shoulder, causing my fingers to tighten around the ripped neck of my top. But… he moves it in the opposite direction – slip-sliding it down my suddenly _small_ feeling arm before encircling my wrist, and then just…

Just… _holding my hand_.

I jolt, my eyes huge, my palm damp and clammy but not _cold_.

Fear keeps my glance from darting down.

A sound rumbles in his chest, almost a sigh. Slowly, he comes to stand beside me, his gaze warming my not-going-to-look face. He doesn't say anything… but after a minute he starts walking, and I do, too.

A while later – minutes, _hours_? – my fear fades a little, so I let myself look down – just for a minute, though, at –

At our connected hands.

**OoOoOo**

**OoOoOoOo**

**OoOoOo**

_Heat rises_, they said, _heat always rises._ It was like a minor third-party reason (or _excuse_) for why we lived in sky-high block buildings. I never questioned it, never had cause or reason to. When I was a Pidgeon for the lower-most parts of the city, I wrapped up in as many layers as I could without becoming debilitated, and I was _still_ cold. And it wasn't like they were even _properly_ on the ground, not like here.

So now, on the _ground_, as I swelter under the bright white heat, I'm not so much as _questioning_ that teaching as deeming it downright _fallacy_ altogether.

_Different worlds_, my mind quibbles back, but I push it away.

I have to let go of Edward's hand some way in, and when he startles, stops, and looks at me with _hurt_ plainly etched onto his face, I say, weakly, "Hot."

When he shows no sign of understanding, I life my arm and swipe the sweat from across my forehead away. I know my face is probably flushed ten-shades of red by now, so I wipe the wet away from my cheeks, too.

I say, again, "Hot." My legs wobble a bit – heat this intense something I'm not accustomed to. "Too hot." And then I just slink to the softened floor, dropping my head between my knees because I feel headache-y all of a sudden.

He makes a little distressed noise in the back of his throat as I fall, and even though I can't see him, I know he's fallen with me.

Fingers on my boot-covered feet. "Bel-la?"

I close my eyes. "I just… I need a minute."

He whines lowly, and before I can say or think anything else, I'm in the _air_.

My breath leaves me in a yelp-gasp as I automatically clutch onto him for support. One of his arms is under my knees, while the other goes around my back, holding me carefully to his chest.

"No walk," he explains, meeting my widened eyes.

I gulp.

"Put me down," I whisper, body shaking at the realisation of being… being _held_.

His arms tighten around me. I feel each flex and tense of his… his _muscles_. "No walk," he insists, green-gold searching, _pleading_.

It ensnares me for a moment, his sense of being earnest. In _Hush_, I'd seen enough, um_, glazed-eyed_ stares, to know what physical insincerity looked like: the insatiable wanting of _more_, never satisfied in its take-and-no-give policy.

But I search and search and _search_ his eyes… and I don't see it. That _look_.

Unfortunately, that doesn't completely stop the panic, as he is, you know, still very much…

"I can walk." I repeat my words from earlier as I start squirming in his arms, which is made very difficult by the heat and the not-wanting-to-touch. I tear my gaze from his as I shiver and shake and writhe about, trying to pull myself away.

But he doesn't budge.

Not. One. Inch.

I grow flustered, my face heating for a different reason. "Edward!" Exasperated, hot, _tired_.

"Bel-la…" Hushed, quiet, _gentle_.

In a move I don't see coming because I'm studiously avoiding his gaze, he dips his head into my neck.

I freeze.

Gently, his nose pushes aside the torn fabric I'd forgotten about in my struggle to be put down, and glides so feather-soft and slow along my neck. He breathes in deeply, holds it in his chest for a minute, before letting it out. _Slowly_.

My body shudders, vibrating with the after-feeling of his groan, his touch.

"Shhh…" he hushes quietly, his breath hot on my lips, the tip of his nose light and caressing against mine. "Find – find water," he murmurs, words a bit stilted, but tone clear. "For – for Bel-la."

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**A/N: Naked and sweet**** – what more could you want? ;) Also, I made a pretty ******(IMO)** banner for this story. Link on profile if you fancy a butcher's!  
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	9. Chapter 8

**Cupid's Bow**

**Chapter 8**

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"Off."

I startle at the feeling of fingers pulling on the ripped corner of my top.

My reflected gaze darts to the reflected Edward in the water, kneeling beside me and lightly tugging on the ruined material. Abruptly, I yank myself away from him, fear crawling into my insides at his word, his touch.

He stares at me across the newly created space, confused, his hand hovering in mid-air.

"W-what are you d-doing?" I grip my top to me tightly, suddenly doubting what I saw, or didn't see, in his eyes earlier.

His head cocks to the side in reply, his gaze running over my clothes. "Hot." His glance swerves back to mine before he places his hovering-hand over his glittering chest. Then, shrugging, "Off."

I gawk at him…

…then start shaking my head pretty bloody quickly.

"No," I squeak, shifting away slightly. "No, thank you."

So he won't pick me up or anything again, I quickly scoop my hands into the water and splash it onto my face. A shudder of pure _relief_ trembles down my spine at how good it feels. It's icy-cool, and I do it again and again, letting the water run down my hair, soaking my scalp in delicious little rivulets of sensation.

Out of the corner of my eye, Edward smiles widely.

I peer at him hesitantly. "It's… I feel better now."

Without a word, he dunks his hand into the water and pulls it back out, dripping.

Wide-eyed, I watch the droplets cling to the tiny diamonds embedded into his skin, and, for a second, recall the moment I first saw him in the water, and feel my cooled-down cheeks flush slightly.

His wet hand touches my bare neck. His eyes catch mine. "Bet… better?"

I swallow thickly, breathe in, breathe out – feel his hand follow the movement. "Um…"

He dips his other hand, lifts it, and places it on his own neck. Inching a little closer, a fixed look steals across his features as his eyes drift closed for a minute. My heart whirrs and –

"Fast," he breathes, voice awed, peering at me. He flexes his hand on his own neck slightly before he smiles, soft and gentle. "S…same."

**OoOoOo**

**OoOoOoOo**

**OoOoOo**

Apparently, on Cupid's Bow, the atmosphere is so accommodating and, well, just flat-out _friendly_, towards human beings, that here, houses are pretty much obsolete. It was one of the things that made it 'the place to be!' – the titillating idea that you could sleep out under the stars, every single night of the year, without worrying about infection or disease or cold.

Personally, I found that idea to be a bit… _barbaric_.

So when the sky starts to darken, apprehension starts to wring at my insides. We'd been walking since we'd cooled off by the little water pool, passing no buildings, no Things, no… _nothing_, really. All I saw, over and over, was colour. But, I suppose, one good thing about seeing nothing was it meant that I hadn't seen any more of Them, either.

Maybe I can manage with _one_, but there's no way I could deal with being outnumbered.

He pauses.

Tilting my head up in the fading light, I ask, my voice tight, "Why are we stopping?" I guess it was naïve of me to think we'd get there – wherever _there_ is – before nightfall, but hope is inherently naïve, I suppose.

His eyes scan the green for a minute. Seemingly satisfied with whatever it is he does, or doesn't, see, he drops his head, his green-gold merging together as he gazes at me. "Sleep," is all he says, taking one more step forward before… sinking to the ground.

Nerves tighten in the pit of my stomach as my eyes dart all around. I am _really_ uncomfortable with the idea of sleeping outside. It's too… _open_. Plus, the quicker I find the Thing, the quicker I can go home. He must know this place like the back of his hand by now, so…

"No… sleep," I say, mimicking his pattern from earlier.

Maybe he can sense my apprehension or whatever, because a look of understanding pools in his splashed-out eyes. Reaching up, he gives my fingers a little tug. "Bel-la sleep. Bel-la… safe."

My eyes widen as I quickly pull my hand away, winding my arm around my ribs. "That's not…" But it _is_.

"Safe," he insists, patting the ground next to him. "Sleep."

I look at the green, the ground, and then him hesitantly. I don't think I'm going to win this one, and I _am_ a bit tired, but…

"Tomorrow?" I ask, then clarify, "We'll find the Thing tomorrow?"

After a minute, he nods. "Tuh… tomorrow."

So sighing, I let myself sink to the ground, clutching my knees tight to my chest. I don't look at him even though I can feel his gaze on me, instead opting to stare out into the dark. I won't let myself fall asleep, because despite what he might say, I still feel uneasy. I haven't _stopped_ feeling uneasy today.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watch his position change, until he's lying flat on the ground, his body tilted to face me. He scoots a little closer – because I left a considerable bit of space between us – and I pretend I don't see.

Slowly, he reaches out and lays his hand on mine, before winding his fingers around my tightly interlocked ones. My quick heart dries up all the water in my mouth, but I let them loosen and fall, let him slide his fingers between mine… and I pretend that he's the only one holding on.

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**A/N: Big thanks to the FicSisters for featuring this story on their blog this week! You guys are lovely. :) **


	10. Chapter 9

**Cupid's Bow**

**Chapter 9**

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When people left our world for Cupid's Bow, or any other really, I liked to imagine that they were seeking all sorts of things; adventure, intrigue, _mystery_. And for a while, before I was old enough to be in (and understand) 'the know,' I thought they really _were_. When I was younger, I had even hoped that I would be among them – that my life plan would let me jump off the edge one day, and into other worlds.

But as I grew older, I grew more aware. By that point, I was content with my life where I was. I didn't want to travel or explore or experience, I just wanted to… _be_.

And for a little while, that's exactly what I did.

So if someone were to tell me, in those moments both _after_ the rosy-hue had been wiped away, but _before_ I'd been given the full realisations of someone else's mistake, that I'd be sleeping outside with a naked one of Them, well… I might just call them crazy and push them over the edge myself.

Like I said, _hope_ is naïve like that.

**OoOoOo**

**OoOoOoOo**

**OoOoOo**

_Warmth_ is what wakes me.

Still unused to being so, well, _warm_, it's the excess of it that jolts me from the darkness. I blink my eyes open slowly, immediately cringing from the onslaught of bright white _light_ that burns into my retinas. I slam my eyes shut so quickly that the ache zigzags through my head.

Wincing, I lift an arm and throw it across my closed gaze, finding relief at being hidden from the glare burning the back of my lids. It takes me a minute to process the _where_ and _why_, and when I do, everything in me deflates.

_So… not a dream then. _

"Bel-la awake?"

And there's the _who_.

I take my arm away from my face slowly, grimacing at the feel of the heat. But it only lasts a minute… as the worst of the burning suddenly just _fades_.

Confused, I blink my eyes open again.

I gasp lightly as the sight of… of _Edward_ immediately floods my vision. He's leaning over me, _close_, and glistening in the morning light, throwing off sparks in every direction. I gape at his face – the only part of him I can bring myself to look at, and it's still too much – and know that I'll never get used to it – to _him_.

_You don't need to_, my mind reminds me. _You'll be able to go home soon._

He smiles at me in the shade.

I swallow. _Hard_.

"Bel-la awake," he says-states this time, his tone pleased. "Bel-la… Bel-la sleep."

My fingers grasp the soft underneath me. "B-Bella _slept_," I babble-correct, just looking for a distraction really, but he –

"Slept," he mutters, his gaze darting to my mouth. "No… no sleep… _slept_."

Surprise jolts my insides, making me glance into his eyes without nerves for once. I'm still too full of pre-conceived notions, and he's turning in directions too inconsistent with all the whispers back on Earth.

_He's not a thing_, I think to myself again.

"Thing," I blurt suddenly, making his eyes dart away from my mouth. He looks at me curiously. I clear my throat, pulling myself _out of my head_ because I really just need to focus on one thing. _The_ Thing. "Are we… we're going to find the Thing today?"

He shifts above me, his tawny hair falling across his forehead and dripping down towards me. "Thing first…" he says slowly, test-tasting words. "Tuh…take Thing… h-home."

My eyes widen. "You have a – a _home_?"

His lips quirk to the side as he leans down, his drippy hair brushing across _my_ forehead. I close my eyes, heart fast, as he dips his head into his favourite place – _my neck._

He breathes in… holds it… then lets it go.

"Bel-la come," he whispers, and I shiver. "Edward's home."

**OoOoOo**

**OoOoOoOo**

**OoOoOo**

I try not to let my mind wander as we start through the green again, but it proves nigh on impossible.

The truth of the matter isn't as easy as I want it to be. Clearly, the people back on Earth had some things right – the planet being one that can't really be disputed, and certain parts of the people here, too; the… the _nudity_, the _size_, the _touching_.

But there's also _so much_ that isn't accounted for, like the speaking, the understanding, the whole bloody rationality of them! I don't even know at this point whether the last reason was not-covered by them or just invented by me. When I heard and saw things about Them, I'd just seen how _different_ they were from us. I'd deemed them barbaric and uncivilised and uncultivated because they did things that I'd never seen or heard anyone doing before. And what was I using for the basis of my opinion? The gossip of _other_ people.

Shame hits me like a ton of bricks then, momentarily breaking my stride. I stare frozen at his back for a minute, feeling the full weight of my years of disgust fall back on me.

Up ahead, I watch him glance to the side, where I used to be, and abruptly halt. A panicked noise comes from his throat when he sees the empty space, and it only lessens slightly when he spins around, and spots me.

He takes a hesitant step forward, stops, and looks at me warily, maybe remembering the last time I fled.

My name is a trembling, "Bel-la?"

I shake a little, croak out a dry, "Sorry."

He takes another step forward, face tight. "Bel-la hurt?"

A hysterical laugh bubbles in the back of my throat at his question, but I beat it down. "No," I breathe, and my gaze runs a little rosy as I stare at him, feeling fresh and new and _guilty_. "I… I'm sorry."

His head twitches to the side, and his hand lifts, tumbling through his hair. He takes a deep breath… closes his eyes… slowly opens them again. In his gaze, I see fear. "Bel-la… _leave_?"

My hands form fists at my sides, and for the first time, I realise I'm not holding my ripped top together. I wonder when I stopped clutching it. Swallowing thickly, I take two steps forwards, not quite meeting him in the middle, but almost.

I tell him,

"Bella stay."

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**A/N: So I'm turning 20 tomorrow... and I like presents... particularly ones that appear wrapped-up in my inbox... xo  
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	11. Chapter 10

**Cupid's Bow**

**Chapter 10**

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Back on Earth, I'd never really experienced _too much_ of anything. Everything was already pre-set for us – our body temperature, our food intake, our time spent asleep, and so on. That's not to say that _no one_ ever surpassed the limits of what was for our own good. Some people went off the beaten track for a bit, but most of the time they came back. I don't really know what happened to the rest – they were probably the ones that filled _Hush_.

So I have never been too full, too awake or too tired. I had never felt _thirst_. I had never _sweated_.

It didn't even take me a _day_ away from monitoring to realise them. And what an uncomfortable realisation it was.

As I trudge along with Edward, under day-burn that seems to last _forever_, it's impossible to fight the persistent cringe at the feeling of my clothes sticking to my skin. You would think, or I would anyway, that the heat would dry me – that's the way it works, right? – but with each step, I only grow wetter.

Sticky and clammy and uncomfortable but I _will not stop__**.**_

To distract myself, I mentally but not actually glance to the side of me. I let myself ruminate on one of the aspects of Edward – maybe Them in general – that is curious but not horror-shocking.

His speech.

I think about his clear tone on some words, and then his stiltedness on others – how much he might understand, and what he doesn't, but also his capacity to learn, and so quickly, too.

"_No… no sleep… _slept_."_

Without permission, I realise my mouth has parted to… to _ask_.

I quickly snap it closed again.

To the side of me, Edward turns. Lifting a hand, he pulls back some green that looks thick and heavy, and, after a quick second of looking at his unveiling, dips his head to catch my glance.

He smile-sparkles, nodding inwards.

I hesitantly turn my gaze away from his and look to where he's gesturing. "The Thing's in there?"

His head shakes. "No Thing," he replies, voice coloured sure. "Sh…shade… water…" His gaze runs down me, landing on my feet with a frown. "Rest."

I peek into the opening once again, wondering if I should argue and persist, but…

I sigh, not even meaning it, and accept Edward's offering.

**OoOoOo**

**OoOoOoOo**

**OoOoOo**

I don't know if this water is different to the water on Earth, or if it's just the fact that my throat keeps running dry, but in any case, it's never tasted so good.

Vaguely my mind hums out a question of _too much_… and I start to worry about the after effects of drinking so much so I –

I stop.

Eyeing the cool water distrustfully, I slowly lower it back into the little pool and scoot away a little bit. I'm tempted to let it rain icy-relief onto my head, but realise it will probably just mix with the sticky-heat coating me and make me even more uncomfortable when we start walking again.

So I just stare at it sparkling, sullen.

I jolt when a _splash_ sounds from the other end, and peer up just in time to see Edward rise out of the water, dripping and shining, just like he did yesterday.

_Yesterday_. The thought seems so strange – the duration seems longer.

I quickly duck my head when my eyes won't move away, and a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach starts to bloom.

_Too much bloody water!_

I hear the gentle _swish_ of the pool as he moves through it, but I just stare at my shoe, fiddle with the sole like it's really very interesting.

Something pink and ripe and round appears in front of my dipped-down gaze.

"Bel-la?"

I stare at the offering, my eyes wide. "What's that?"

"F-food," he says-stammers, pushing his hand a little closer. "Eat?"

I hadn't even noticed I was hungry up until that point. But even at the feeling of empty in my stomach, I don't make a move to take it. It's so… well just… _so_. Like with everything else here: I've never seen anything like it before… and certainly not anything that I'd put in my mouth.

"Um," I say hesitantly, tugging on my sole. "I don't think – "

"Food safe," he says quietly, his tone… _hurt_?

Then I _do_ glance up, and his expression matches his voice.

"Oh no." I quickly try to fix my mistake, my hands flapping about. "That's not what I – I didn't mean to suggest that – "

But his head dips at my rambling, and his shoulders slump. Slowly, he starts to pull his hand back.

_Oh, it can't be that bad!_

So thinking not at all, I quickly reach out and pluck the round-pink from his palm.

I take a bite.

And it's… well.

I thought the _water_ tasted good.

A noise leaves my lips before I can stop it, and his head snaps up. I don't even know _why_ I do it, it just sort of… spills out.

His eyes shimmer-spark, heightened by the dazzling sheen of his skin, and then he's gone and back so quickly, the only evidence I can see of his moving sits in his palm – because there's suddenly _more_ of the pink-round-ripe.

I eat until I feel _full_.

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**A/N: Thanks for all your birthday wishes! I had a lovely day. :)**


	12. Chapter 11

**Cupid's Bow**

**Chapter 11**

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Before we leave, Edward disappears back through the green for a minute, and I take my chance.

Carefully, I ease my boots off my feet, wincing a little when they stick. The unrelenting material seems to have _welded_ itself to my skin – I guess it's not really a fan of _heat_.

Well, that makes two of us.

"Oh my god," I whisper-sigh, just in _relief_.

I lay my boots to the side and let my toes sink into the soft below, jolting slightly at how _nice_ it feels. I wore shoes pretty much constantly back on Earth – only removing them to sleep. But why would I? Our ground was hard and stony, so I'd never felt the need to wander around bare-footed.

I close my eyes and loosen my muscles, just for a tiny, _tiny_, second.

"Bel-la hurt."

My eyes fly open as a gasp tears its way past my lips, my hand slamming across my heart _hard_ as I stare at the now very _present_ Edward.

"Please make more noise in the future," I whisper, my heart choking my tongue.

Oblivious, all he does is sink down in front of me, leaving me to stare at the top of his bent-down head. His weirdly colourful hair captures the light and soaks the tips, making me blink too quickly.

I jolt when I feel his fingers slide around my ankle, my now _bare_ ankle, and automatically try to pull it back.

But he persists, pulling my foot closer.

"Bel-la hurt," he says again, wincing at the redness on my skin. "Ouch."

"It's fine," I squeak out, slipping my bum back so I can tug my leg away.

Ignoring my efforts (consciously or not, I'm not sure) he suddenly sinks into the water. Unfortunately, he takes my foot with him.

"Hey!" I yelp, a second before my toes touch the surface. "_What_ are you – "

Then my foot is swallowed by the pool and…

…my words tumble themselves out into a gasp.

"_Oh_," I breathe.

The icy-relief is so _immediate_, so instantly _soothing_, that it makes my whole body shudder-shake. I… I don't know how to describe what it feels like, just that it feels so _good_… so much –

"Better?"

I startle, my gaze jumping to Edward's.

He's watching me… _hopefully_?

"Um, y-yes," I stammer, feeling the pads of his fingers trail slowly down the arch of my underwater foot. I _will_ the panic away, but that hardly helps – I can feel the rush of my heart pounding underneath every little bit of me.

He smiles in reply; light-tipped dark lashes brushing against his cheekbones, lips uplifted and soft and red.

I swallow. "Thank you."

His eyes crinkle, and I'm too… _too_, to notice his arm extending, his hand reaching out to grasp my other ankle. I don't pull or kick or tug when his fingers slip around my skin, but let him sink it into the water with my other foot, and him.

My arms start to shake at the intense relief, and that, coupled with the confusing but really very pleasant feeling of his fingers drawing out the pain, makes them just flat out collapse. I slip onto my elbows and it doesn't even hurt.

Boneless, I watch him watch me.

"That feels nice." Tongue loose and honest with feeling. I don't even stutter.

His teeth press into the fresh, full redness of his bottom lip as his eyes sink into mine. Below the surface of the water, his thumbs press firmly into the arches of my feet, mimicking the force of his stare, and my elbows wobble. My breath quickens and my body is soft toffee, _barely_ solidified, when he slowly lifts my right foot out of the cool… and then presses those fresh, fruit-ripened lips against _me_.

Sensitised and reeling, my mouth opens and for the first time ever in my twenty years I –

I _moan_.

Long and drawn out and taking all the air out of my lungs.

In reply, his eyes simultaneously intensify and fall. Through my own droopy lids, I watch him come closer. Blood pools under my skin when he slowly lowers my foot back into the water, only to slide his hands up my legs until he's grasping my knees.

_Oh my god. _

With a low rumble from somewhere deep in his chest, he grips my knees tight before pulling me forward, until my butt is on the very edge of the soft, only _just_ out of the water.

My eyes widen, fear curling in my belly, but I remain curiously stiff as he… as he _parts_ my legs, taking a step forward until he's so _close_, encased tightly between my thighs, his palms on the soft either side of my waist as he hovers over me.

Trembling, my mouth opens… but nothing comes out.

His green-gold darkens as he looms above me, mere inches away. And it's captivating, his gaze, because just like when he looked at me before, with that unprecedented _sincerity_, now his eyes hold something equally unheard of.

So unheard of in fact that _I can't actually name it._

The stories say that years ago, in The Days That Never Were (only _stories_ because to confirm it would be to make it The Days That Were – and they (meaning The Institution) were inclined to remain rather aloof about the whole thing), everyone, not just those who went off the rail, wandered around unmonitored, unassigned and unholy. _Holy_ was synonymous with _order_ now – the association with something abstract having become obsolete long ago. Yet curiously, the term remained within our lexis (along with others like _god_ and _religion_). Their past conceptualisations always drifted just beyond my reach, but the fact they remained so firmly embedded had always confounded me. I wondered just how powerful they must have been – before. If they were so unrestrained, what if they'd had just _too much__… _what if it had all turned out wrong?

Suffice to say, I didn't like to think about that. Especially considering these words were still going strong.

Anyway, the point of the matter is that as a result of the insatiability of The Past People, the Earth became uninhabitable. The air burnt, people destructed on whims, and eventually, everything just fell to pieces. According to myth, or reality, depending on the teller, there was a trial to determine the Virtuous from the Ills. From the Virtuous lot, a male and a female from every corner of the world were chosen and then deployed to _Earth 2_ (just _Earth_ following the belief of The Days That Never Were). The Ills, well… they were left behind.

But the Virtuous brought their stories, their precious, shocking words with them. Because despite not being Ills, they had lived in that world, and they had seen and heard it all; all of that evil, all of that _ill_.

What happened? As far as I had heard – The Institution had locked everything away. Or thrown it away. Or hidden it. It was the same basic tale repeated over and over, but there were always differences – ones that'd probably make even the most believing sceptical.

So right now, looking up at Edward, _I can't name his gaze_ – because I've never seen it before.

Because maybe, if the stories are to be believed… it's something _ill_.

Panic turns me inside out. It isn't just wayward gossip making me uneasy now, but the actual realisation that he's doing something different – not just _touch_, which is something known, if disapproved of – but his undefinable gaze that could be _insatiability_.

My insides flood with blood, yanking my hands up and push push _pushing_. It barely moves him any, but he must understand my intent because he lifts a hand and secures my wrists against his chest, stopping the motion. Dropping down slightly, his eyes loom closer to mine, colours splashing – _not making any sense._

"Get off of me," I breathe harshly, my heart thundering, my eyes threatening to water. My mind is replaying moments in _Hush_ on a loop, filling my ears with sound and stories of greed, of wanting, of _too much_ and destruction.

_Oh god_, I think, for the hundredth time in two days – even though I don't really know what it means.

"Get off!" And tears _do_ spill over this time, leaking down out of the corners of my eyes and landing in the soft below.

He blinks down at me – gaze leaving mine as he follows their watery path. Relief fills me momentarily as his incongruous eyes release mine, but his glance is back before I can blink. And my vision is too blurry to see the change.

He whines lowly, his hand releasing my wrists to rest on the other side of me again. _My_ hands curl in on themselves as I try to push against his chest once more – too intermittent with trembles to hold their own.

His body presses against mine, but I don't feel any of his weight. My chest heaves up and down with too-hurried breaths that _hurt _when I feel his nose touch my neck. I wait for him to inhale, _will_ the wobble out of my limbs that stems from the shaking in my mind. But none of these things happen.

Instead he –

He turns his head, and –

No hesitation, presses his mouth against my temple; soaking up tear-tracks with his lips.

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**A/N: I'm feeling a bit "meh" about this chapter, so I hope you guys enjoyed it! Also: this story _may_ get longer than 12 or 13 chapters. I _may_ have fibbed a little. Oops. **


	13. Chapter 12

**Cupid's Bow**

**Chapter 12**

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The thing with touch is, or so I've _heard_, is that it can become quite addictive.

On Earth we didn't do it because a) (and obviously) it was frowned upon, and b) because there just wasn't any need to. The top-dogs of The Institution prided themselves on flaunting a society that was at once group minded, yet singularly efficient. People didn't rely on _each other_, they only relied on _themselves_ to keep _their_ part of the system running – which in-turn fed into the greater one.

So in this whole, admittedly circular process, people were never further away than when they were working with each other.

Those who fell off the wagon and disappeared into the lower-most parts of the city, like _Hush_, seemed to be seeking – amongst other things – precisely this. And though there were a plethora of worlds to visit, those who sought _touch_ always, without fail, went to Cupid's Bow.

If planets could have "unholy" specialities, then _that_ would be Cupid's Bows'.

People must have gained something from it – the physicality, I mean. But all I saw was _sin_, so I could never understand how it could do, or feel, any _good_.

And I had never wanted it.

**OoOoOo**

**OoOoOoOo**

**OoOoOo**

It seems to last for a very long time.

His mouth on my skin is hot but not blistering, firm but not bruising. All I can do is blink up at the bright-light sky with blurred eyes as he mops up their ink with his lips. They stream and stream and _stream, _turning my skin red and mottled as terror, and panic, rise to the surface and slowly leak out – turning water thirsty and wanting with salt.

He doesn't hurt. His hands don't touch.

He just takes away the salt.

My hands grow limp and heavy until eventually, they just fall – unencumbered – between us. Slowly, my breaths even out, my trembles cease and finally, my eyes grow clear again.

When the flow stops, he pulls away.

His eyes dance across my face from above, his brows coming together. "Bel-la…" His head turns to the side a bit, like he can't fathom, or understand. I want to say, _me too, _but my tongue is thick – my mind addled.

He catches my gaze, and he just looks.

And I do, too.

_I can't name it_ – my mind breathes, intuitively – but the tinge of hysteria that coated it earlier has been quieted. All that remains now is a question, not a certainty. Just… _why_.

"Edward n-no… _hurt_," he whispers – the most hushed I'd heard him speak so far. He blinks at me quickly, his gaze glassy. My body jolts slightly when I feel the tip of his finger brush against my temple. "Edward m…make _better_."

My breath rushes out of me, like my chest is being compressed – but his is too gentle on mine to cause the drop. Eyes falling, _squeezing_ shut, as I try to pick my way through the battlefield of sudden _feelings_ rattling my ribcage. I don't I don't I _don't_ understand _this_. I don't understand _him_. I don't understand _why_.

I definitely don't understand _touch_.

But… I have a job to do. A _reason_ for being here. And even if I don't understand _here_… then I can at least pretend to understand something. _The_ Thing.

Without opening my eyes, I croak, "Can we go and get the Thing now?"

**OoOoOo**

**OoOoOoOo**

**OoOoOo**

He throws periodic glances my way as we walk.

For my part though, I keep my head down. This is despite the… the _guilt_ that chews at my stomach, making each step I take more painful than the last. I have _words_ inside of me, words that taste suspiciously of _sorry_.

To counteract the bad-feeling, I think, _what would be the point? Would he even understand?_

…But that only serves in making _more_ guilt flood on top, because it's wrong of me to mock his comprehension. So he doesn't communicate exactly like me, but that doesn't make him any _lesser_ than me.

I stare down at my feet, dull and aching, trying the mentally grasp the relief I'll feel at finding the Thing. But it feels so… _hollow_.

I don't realise I've stopped walking until Edward says –

"Carry?"

I snap back into awareness, dragging my eyes from my feet, before speeding them up as they go up his glistening body, not really being able to _look_. His golden-green gaze startles me for a moment; the colour slicing its way through the grey and submerging my eyes for a minute, making them swim.

My stomach twists. "No, thank you," I whisper, twining my fingers tightly into the bottom of my shirt.

His brows push together in reply. He takes a slow step forward, watching me all the while. "W…w…" he begins, mouth opening and closing as he tries to… _find the words_? Closing his eyes, he gives his head a quick, rough shake. And when he reopens them, I _do_ recognise his glance – this time.

_Frustration._

"Bel-la," he tries again, taking another step forward. I watch him with wide eyes as he lifts a hand, feathering his fingertips below my eye, across my temple. Cocking his head to the side, he looks at me pleadingly. "W…w…" He lets out a low groan, the hand not touching me rising to pull on his hair.

My breath catches. He doesn't know the words, just like I don't... _maybe I can… _

"Why?" I guess, quietly.

His gaze snaps to mine, and it brightens.

_Word of the day_, I think.

"Yes," he breathes, then dragging his fingertip slowly across my temple, repeats, insistent, "_Why_?"

The words tumble to my lips before I can think to stop them. "You scared me," I just blurt out, then quickly realise what I've said, but just a _tad_ too late.

His face twists. The hand in his hair tightens – the one on my face slips away. "S…scared?"

My stomach dips, churning painfully. I think back to the stories that had filled my mind – maybe more than just gossip, but still just stories nonetheless – and still perpetuated by people; fears of _too much_ exacerbated by the not-knowing of _why_, or _what_.

My gaze drops to my feet, shameful. "It… it was me," I correct, quietly. "I was… I was scared of myself more than…" I take a breath, shake my head because he hadn't actually done anything wrong, yet here I was… "Sorry," I whisper. "I'm sorry that I…" I trail off, my hand abruptly flying to my dippy tummy as it lurches unexpectedly. A pained gasp leaves my lips as I double over, my stomach cramping.

"Bel-la!"

I jolt as his hands catch me, but before anything else can –

My face pales, and the ache in my stomach vaults up my throat – dumping its contents onto the soft in gagging, hurting retches.

Unlike before, the moan I let out is wretched.

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**A/N: I like writing our protagonists in pain as much as you like reading it, so, really really not a lot. Sorry. :( **


	14. Chapter 13

**Cupid's Bow**

**Chapter 13**

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"I'm okay now," I say weakly, not exactly strong-arming my defence, but I can't help it. I can still feel the nausea bubbling in my stomach all the way up to my throat. "You can… you can put me down."

Edward only gazes at me in reply. He hasn't _stopped_ looking at me since I defiled that bit of soft back there. I cringe thinking about the mess I made.

"Edward carry," he tells me softly, his arms around me fixing me more snuggly to his chest. "Bel-la rest."

"Not tired," I mumble back in reply, just letting my bones be the weak, lacking things they are for the minute. My eyes fall shut despite my petulant tone, and my cheek presses against his hot, bare chest; too focused on _not_ throwing up again to register the _other_ kind of flip-flopping in my stomach.

We walk – well, Edward walks, I'm just… carried – for a little while in quiet. I take deep breaths as I slip further into the lull, my ear pressed over the spot where his heart is. I focus on that, on the quick pounding of his pulse… and it works – for a bit.

And then, well, it doesn't.

"Edward," I say shakily, quickly snatching my face away from his skin, feeling myself pale. "I think I'm going to – "

And then, well, I do.

_All over myself. _

I groan, feeling my stomach heave at the smell, the _feel_. I pretty much expect him to drop me – _I_ would drop me – but he just holds me tighter still. My face heats up – both with fever and embarrassment – and I don't think I've ever felt more uncomfortable than at this particular moment.

Suddenly, we – or just _he_ really – bursts through green, and into another wide net of space, trickled with little pools of water. He steps in until he's toe-to-toe with a little shallow. Slowly, and watching me, he kneels down.

My left hand automatically curls around his shoulder as we go, preparing for the dip… but the discomfort never comes, and I breathe a little better when I'm back on the ground again.

Stretching out his arm, he dunks his hand into the water and pulls it back – shimmer-sparkling in the light – before gently placing it on my forehead; soaking up sweat and salt. My eyes briefly flutter-shut at the feeling, somehow forgetting about the sick covering me for a minute. On Earth, I used to get sick a lot, but not like _this_. Bacteria bred in the heat (especially when it was created and not natural), so colds and such were common. I was used to headaches, joint pain, sore throats and bunged up noses. _Actual_ sick? Not so used to that.

He shifts under me – so that he's sitting cross-legged with me in his lap – but that's not what causes my eyes to snap open.

His fingers at my throat – tugging, pulling, _ripping_.

_Again_.

I pull my hand away from his shoulder and say his name, but it comes out weaker, and a lot less indignant than intended.

His golden-green swivel away from my neck to catch my eyes. "M…may…make better," he pleads softly, his gaze not so much swirling or splashing as _clashing_. His glance darts down briefly to my soiled clothes before he presses his palm against my forehead again.

I close my eyes briefly as I take in the situation, and then his point.

_I can't stay like this.  
_

"Bel-la?" His fingers feather over the pulse point in my neck, waiting.

Resigned, I pull my eyes open at the same time I start pulling myself up. His hands move from my skin to my back, helping me. I studiously avoid his gaze as I hunch in on myself, wincing as the sick on my clothes clings to me.

I breathe through my mouth heavily, asking, "Can… can you… can you turn around – please?"

After a minute of non-response, I peek up at him out of the corner of my eye to see him looking at me blankly. Pressing my lips together, I give my head a quick shake. Instead of trying to explain, I slowly pull myself to my feet, and of course, he comes with me.

Fisting my hands at my sides so I won't clutch at my stomach, I take one, two, three wobbly steps around him… or as much as I can considering he _won't let go_ of my waist.

I lift my hands and press-push them down onto his, relieved when he lets them slip away.

"Turn around?" I ask quietly, feeling the sun beat down on the back of my head and wanting nothing more than to dunk my whole head under one of those shimmering pools.

In reply, he just blinks at me, his eyes on my mouth, his brow slowly slipping into a frown.

Desperation bubbles up inside of me like flames bubbling away at a candle wick. Impulsively, I reach out a hand and pass it over his eyes, closing his lids in the process.

When I pull my hand away, I want to… _to_, when he just pops them right back open again.

"Edward _please_," I plead, my voice wobbly, my throat tight. I feel uncomfortable and sick and hot and sweaty and achy but I _can't_ feel better until he stops looking at me.

I know I can't stay in my clothes – it's the last thing I want at this point – but it's not about pre-conceived notions right now, or anything to do with Them. It's _me_. Because the only thing that could _possibly_ make me feel worse right now, is if he were to _see_ me.

His head twitches to the side, his mouth dips.

"Please," I whisper.

His eyes widen then, the green swelling, the gold sprinkling little raindrops of sun all over to compensate. His gaze drops to my hand a moment before he picks it up. Slowly, and deliberately, he swipes my palm across his eyes once more. And when my hand falls, they stay closed.

Relief unfurls inside of me, smattering aches. "Thank you," I breathe.

"Bel-la stay," he replies lowly.

I nod my head quickly. "Bella stay," I echo in assurance, carefully tiptoeing around him until his back is facing me. I watch him tense hesitantly, waiting for him to spin around, but he never does. So, letting out a quiet breath, and with great trepidation, I lift my arms and start unbuttoning my shirt.

My fingers tremble as they go, so it takes me a long time to get all the buttons free. Once done, I clutch the sides of my shirt tightly together and look around nervously.

"Bel-la safe," comes Edward's soft voice from in front of me. Startled, my head snaps in his direction – terrified for a moment that he's turned around – but my wide-eyed stare is met with his glimmering back, wondering how…

"Edward here," he confirms, and even though his voice his gentle his body is tense.

I swallow, and tremble. "No one else?" I ask, voice small.

A beat of silence. "Bel-la here."

A shaky smile threatens to pull at my lips as I let my hands slip from the fabric. With one last sweeping glance around, I let the shirt fall – sick and sweat and all.

Unbidden, a heavy sigh works its way past my lips as a light breeze breezes by, shudder-shaking my skin until little bumps dance along my arms. My body jolts almost violently as it becomes exposed to the outside… _everything,_ but it doesn't _hurt_.

Stumbling a little, I take a few steps back until the heel of my foot touches the something-cold. Holding my arms tightly in front of my chest, I quickly look away from Edward and down to my bottoms – grimacing at the feel, betting that the heat is making everything stick and feel ten times worse.

I let out a shaky breath, catching sight of my too-bright skin in this too-bright land.

"In for a penny…" I murmur soundlessly – my voice a hard swallow – as I pull one trembling hand away from my chest to the waist band of my trousers.

I close my eyes, trying to block out the sound and smell and feel of everything for a minute so I can –

And then I just do.

_Tug. _

_Pull._

_Drop._

"D-d-don't l-look," I whisper-stammer harshly, my trousers puddled at my feet, my eyes still closed.

He doesn't say anything in reply, and it takes me a minute to open my eyes again.

When I do, he's still facing away from me.

Relief blows cool on my flushed skin, and quickly, I dart my foot back, intending just to sink into the pool behind me. Unfortunately, I must yank my left leg away too quickly, as it catches on the material at my feet – and I lose traction.

My eyes widen, panic pulling and burning me as I slip backwards. It's deeper than I thought, the pool, so I end up sinking too far down. I gasp as the water grips my body all around – unwittingly breathing in _water_.

But before I can register how _stupid_ that was, I feel skin on my skin, and then _air_ as I suddenly break the surface. By the ache in my lungs and throat I know I'm coughing, but my ears are strangely muffled – sound making no sense. _Is someone saying my name? _

_"…la!…"_

Back on soft, water spilling down the corners of my lips, pressure on my chest.

_"…la… el-la!…"_

Darkness swirls behind my closed lids, and I'm about to surrender when –

"Bel-la!"

Abruptly _awake_, my eyes snap open at the same time sound floods back in. Gurgling coughs split the airwaves and ring in my ears. Light, shimmering, burns my retinas before colour infuses and spreads, leaking in shapes and shadow. The pressure on my chest lets up and I gasp, greedily intaking large gulps of oxygen.

I blink and blink and _blink_, and I finally make out Edward; wide and wild eyed, close and clear above me.

"I – I'm o-okay," I gasp out, not knowing whether it's me or him who's trembling when the damp skin of his forehead touches the damp skin of my shoulder.

"Edward n-not turn around," he replies shakily, "not again."

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**A/N: Sorry about the wait! I've had the flu and it's not been fun. I'm all better now though, so updates are back on schedule again.  
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	15. Chapter 14

**Cupid's Bow**

**Chapter 14**

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It was my penultimate day working as a deliverer to _Hush_ when I saw something I never had before. I'd reported to the front desk, as usual, but rather than shooing me over to the main lobby, I'd been beckoned closer and asked to _take it out back. _

_Back?_ I'd inquired then, as I'd never been told to do that before and I was dreadfully curious _and_ cautious.

Their reply had been an impatient stare and a vague gesture towards a door I'd never noticed before. _Be quick about it_, they'd snapped, _he's waiting_.

The unknown behind that door had made me uneasy; a low, thick tide of foreboding washing over me. But what could I do? _Not_ go? It was my job, so not bloody likely.

With little choice, and hesitant steps, I went.

Once I reached the door, I tried the handle but it wouldn't budge. So very quietly, my palms sweating a little bit, I knocked.

The silence dragged on for a little while, and I was just about to knock again when the door was yanked open. My gaze froze with my rising fist, not on the person before me but on the scene, the thing, behind him.

_Hello? Yes?_ he'd asked impatiently. And I _still_ wasn't looking at him.

He must have grown tired of my gawking, because eventually he'd just stepped into my line of sight – blocking my view.

_Um_, I had stammered, just seeing the roll of water drip-sliding down his nose.

He'd gestured down to the parcel in my hands._ For me?_ he'd asked slowly, like _I_ was slow.

I had just nodded and, after a minute, thrust the package at him. But before I could even ask for a signature, he was already slamming the door in my face.

I had walked out of there in a daze.

It had been the first time I'd seen water like that.

It hadn't been the last, though. For about a year after that, I had immersed myself in books about the sea – which, I had deduced fairly quickly, was not what had been present _out back. _But I liked the idea of the water, and before I had grown content I had wanted to learn how to be in it, to _swim_.

I had never been in or seen anything like the pools on Cupid's Bow before arriving, or anything concerning reams of water _period_.

On Earth, we only learnt to sink, not swim.

**OoOoOo**

**OoOoOoOo**

**OoOoOo**

After a long time of gaining my breath back – eyes closed because I'm used to the dark – sense and rationality flood back in, and I almost wish they hadn't because they make me realise –

I'm naked.

_Naked_.

Well… not _naked_ naked, not like… not like _Edward_. But still, pretty naked. Naked enough for me to start another round of panicking.

Yanking my eyes open – because I've only _just_ learnt that it's really not a good idea for me to keep them closed – I grip the soft underneath me and scuttle backwards, dragging my water-clogged body out from underneath his.

He grips my ankle before I can get too far.

Flinching, I give my leg a good tug but if anything, his hold only tightens. I curl in on myself at his refusal, winding my arms around my chest and waist like a make-shift shield. I pull my free leg with me, and I could get my other one to come in too if I moved a bit nearer to him, but as already mentioned, I'm _naked_ so that's obviously not going to happen.

On the green and soft I tremble, though I'm still not even _close_ to being cold.

He hums low his throat as he approaches; a soft, almost lulling sound. I just stare down at the top of one bare knee as he closes in, wishing the rest of me was covered, wishing he couldn't see – for more than one reason.

No one's ever seen me like _this_ – excepting when I was a baby but that doesn't really count. I didn't have these… _things_ then. I wasn't sloped and shaped and looking so obviously with my clothes gone like one of Them.

My body was lumpy and rounded and stuck out too much.

My skin was veined and ugly, and scarred.

So I just drop my head and stare at my knee so hard, wish wish _wishing_ he'd just let me go.

But of course, he does the opposite.

His hand slides up my leg and grasps my knee – like he did before – but now it's all skin on skin and it feels like my heart is going to beat out of my chest. Warmth from my blood pools to the surface and puddles beneath my skin, highlighting blue veins and white silvery scars.

But it's like he doesn't even see.

"Bel-la," he whispers, as quiet and gentle as the tickling breeze. My gaze wavers on my knee, at his touch, his voice, the heat of his gold-green. His thumb draws slow circles on the skin just above my knee and I shudder-shake. _He won't hurt me_, I think desperately, not knowing if I _think_ or _want_ or _know_ it to be true. _He won't he won't he won't._

His other hand is suddenly just there, turning the tilt of my chin up until he's looking at me, _right_ at me.

My breath catches as I take in his shining-bright eyes, his so red lips and sparkling facets of his high, sharp cheeks, his strong, cut jaw.

"Edward help," he continues softly, his fingers sliding to my neck and feeling my pulse. His eyes watch mine all the while, not my skin or my body, and they're precious metal rain and soft-sinking sun, spreading warmth but dousing aching, and thirst.

His left hand drips down to mirror-image his right. His fingers feather and spread, and then he settles himself between my now suddenly _parted_ legs.

Arms still around me in my make-shift shield, I simultaneously freeze and shiver.

Heart in my mouth, eyes wide now and unable to leave his, I wait for his next move.

He smiles, slow. Then his hands go flat as he glides his palms up up up my thighs, over my hips – cupping just for a second – before settling on my waist, fingers spread and holding.

And I feel it all. It burns and fills and tingles and spreads and makes me feel like I've just been zapped with electricity about a hundred and one times. My nerves are in my blood, chasing sensation, making me hot and feeling everywhere.

I try to get air in and then realise I'm sort of _panting_.

And all I can think is: _oh my god!_

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**A/N: *wiggly eyebrows*  
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	16. Chapter 15

**Cupid's Bow**

**Chapter 15**

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Vagrant. Barbarian. _Beast_.

There were as many bad names about Them as there were good. Not that that was broadcast, mind you. Ostensibly, the Institution weren't just 'aloof' about Them, in fact, they liked the pretend They didn't exist at all (when they weren't dropping people into the fray, _anyhow_).

I only knew the terms because I had accidentally overheard some high-ups talking about it once. I'd recoiled then, the harshness of the term _beast_ startling me so much that I'd dropped my handheld-hologram to the floor, _right outside the door. _

_They have no order, no system! Vagrants, the lot of them._

Suffice to say, that was the end of my eavesdropping.

_And they're breeding system! It's positively barbaric._

But only the beginning of my judgements on Them.

_Well they _are_ barbarians, are they not?_

I had deduced _beast_ as something bad – not because I had any knowledge of the semantics of the word, but because of the way the person had said it, nay, _spat_ it. We were neutral, always neutral. And this was most definitely _not_.

_That's true enough. They're nothing but a pervasive hoard of wild _beasts!

Now, as Edward lifts me with a kind of slow and gentle that begs my tense muscles to fall into slumber, as he carries me over to a shallow and sets me carefully down onto the side of the pool, never fully letting me go as he eases my calves into the water. As he sinks down into the cool in front of me, wet hitting his stomach before it stops, and washes the panic and the fever and ache away with soothing-shining fingertips – as he does all of this, I can't help but come to the realisation that there isn't anything _barbaric_ or _beastly_ about this… about him.

**OoOoOo**

**OoOoOoOo**

**OoOoOo**

Trembles seem second nature since I've been here. I guess the surplus of all this new _feeling_ doesn't know what to do with itself, so it manifests as shudders and tiny little bumps on my skin; fear and shock and surprise.

I'm still hot, even though the nausea is fading, hopefully signalling I won't be sick again. Because it's really, _really_ unpleasant.

So, as Edward coats my skin in water, I try to figure out _why_ I was.

It could be the difference in the atmosphere… but in all the time I'd been a Pigeon for Hush, I'd never heard of it affecting someone so bad that they _threw up_. Plus, it was renowned for its adaptability… so that option didn't seem too likely.

I guess it could have been the heat… but it seems like that would have affected my head rather than my stomach.

But the only other thing that it could have been was…

_The food. _

The round-pink that I'd eaten about two dozen of.

I only _barely_ withhold a groan._ I guess that's the consequence of eating too much… and also too-colourful._

"Bel-la baby?"

I shake myself out of my realisations to see Edward's hand on my stomach. I ignore the quiver-clench and take a deep breath, focusing on his words instead. _Bel-la baby?_

I blink up at him, confused. _Baby? Why would he think I had a baby? And why is he touching my stomach like that?_

"Um… no. I don't have a baby," I say, my words slow for myself, not him. My mind races as I try to remember anything about reproduction here, but I come up blank. So, I just peer up at him and ask, "Why would… why would you think that?" I don't look like a test-tube, do I?

"Bel-la sick," he replies easily, his gaze darting down to his hand covering my stomach. "Bel-la baby."

I gawk at him, realising that fertilisation must be _very_ different here than to how it is on Earth.

"Edward help," he continues at my silence, his thumb twitching on my stomach. "Edward… know how."

I shake my head quickly, before he starts to do… _something_. "I'm… I don't have a baby. Um…" Lifting a hand from the soft, I let it hesitantly touch his on my stomach for a second before pulling it back. "No baby."

He looks at me sceptically for a minute.

"Really," I urge. "I think I just… I ate too much, and I'm not used to your food here."

His eyes widen. "Food bad?"

"Bella bad," I reply, lips frozen after as I wonder if it's true – even just a little bit. Pre-conceived notions aside, I still had them, and they're probably not going to go away _just like that. _

But then he frowns and tells me, "Bel-la not bad."

And then, well, I smile, because I just can't help it.

**OoOoOo**

**OoOoOoOo**

**OoOoOo**

He offers me his hand first.

I eye his helping hand apprehensively, and then look down at my arms which are folded across my chest. Maybe nudity isn't a big deal to him, or to any of Them, but I've spent twenty years covering up, so I can't just…

"Um," I stammer quickly. "That's okay, I've…" I fold my legs under me and try to grow an extra _hand_ when I realise that I'm going to need more coverage. So, I'm not completely naked – underwear consisting of longish, short pants that end a good few inches above my knees, and a vest-bra combo that halts a bit before my belly button – but there's still so much _skin_, all on show. And I _don't know_ how to be comfortable like this.

_Turn around_ is on the tip of my tongue, but of course I can't say it.

As I struggle, his arm stays outstretched, waiting.

When I look up at him, hesitant, he's smiling.

"Bel-la," he says, voice tinged with bemusement as he wiggles his fingers at me, like_, take my hand already._

So I just do, because I'm not going to find the Thing sitting here all day. Heat burns my cheeks as I slowly remove one of arms and place my hand in his. My palm zaps when I do, and I drop my eyes to where we're connected for a minute, looking for something tangible to signify the sizzle, but it's just feeling.

With a gentle tug that probably takes nothing on his part, I'm pulled to my feet, and I don't even stumble.

"Thanks," I mumble, heart beating ten to the dozen as I stare fixedly at our hands – too nervous to look into his eyes.

He hums in reply, and I watch his palm turn, his fingers running like streams of water through mine as he laces ours together. The tips of his fingers are practically touching my wrist they're so long.

"Thanks too for, you know, pulling me out of the water, that was, um, that was… good," I say awkwardly, sort-of really rambling a bit. I tighten my left arm around myself. His silence, while probably only lasting a few seconds, is disconcerting, so I –

I _jolt_.

The fingers on his free hand are suddenly on my neck, lightly pressing down, and even though I try not to, I still flinch a little bit. My hand unconsciously tightens around his, and my gaze feathers around his chest for a minute at his close, close proximity.

Pulling air through his teeth, he makes a sharp _hissing_ sound. Startled, I glance up to see his eyes focused on my neck, and wincing.

I blink spasmodically, confused.

"Edward?"

His gaze darts up to mine as he pulls his fingers away, and he looks at me for a second before turning his gaze outwards. I watch him watch the green in puzzlement. My free hand lifts to touch the place his had just been, a lot less gently, and I recoil at the sting it causes.

_What?_

Then he's walking, and because we're attached, I am, too.

He halts right in front of some more green. I wish I could be more specific, but everything here just looks… _green_ to me. Without dropping my hand, he roots through with his other… eventually pulling out a long, thinnish piece of, you guessed it, _green_.

Turning around, he presents it to me with a smile.

I look at him, wide-eyed. "Uh…"

"Make better," he says gently, gaze on my neck.

My eyes widen further, because that doesn't look like the friendliest… green thing around. It has _spikes_, for crying out loud!

"No, that's okay," I utter quickly, sliding my hand from his and backing up a little. I let my fingers close on my neck. "I'm sure…" _why does it hurt, exactly?_ "I'm sure it'll be fine."

His head twitches to the side, following my retreat with a frown. All he does is take one step forward, and he's matched my three paces backwards.

I tilt my head up and look at him warily.

"Better," he insists, holding up the green-spiky again. He nods towards my neck. "Bel-la burn."

Burn? What? _How?_

"Sun," he continues, as if hearing my silent questions. He lifts his gaze to the sky for a minute. "Bel-la… not… not used t-to?"

I gawk at him, surprised, once again. _He's repeating what I said earlier, and correctly. _

I don't get to reply though, because he's splitting the green in half before I can. Sliding his fingernail through its soft looking flesh, I watch, a little bit fascinated, as a translucent liquid starts to ease out. He smears it onto his fingertips, then slowly lifts a hand to my neck, and rubs it into the… the _burn_.

"Oh," I mouth-sigh, as my neck is immediately doused with cool, removing the sting.

A smile tickles the corner of his mouth as he squeezes more translucent onto his fingers, rubbing it into places I can't see, making skin feel better when I didn't even realise it was hurt.

Tilting my chin up slightly, his thumb presses lightly down onto my chin, making my lips part. "Drink?"

"What is it?" I ask warily, like knowing its name would somehow fill me in with the knowledge of what it meant.

"Aloe – not bad," he assures, eyes gentle. "Soothes," he murmurs, the tip of his thumb brushing my bottom lip. With his other hand, he carefully runs his fingertips across my neck. "Skin." Then, dropping his hand to my stomach, "Insides."

His eyes are telling me he's earnest, and he's actually only _helped_ me so far, so I tell him, without any real struggle, "Okay."

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**A/N: Yikes. Sorry about the wait. I got consumed by an essay that I left too late and had to panic-rush to finish it. All is well though, I handed it in yesterday, and I'm officially on Easter break. So, I know I said last time that we were back on schedule, but that turned out to be a lie, but this time when I say it, it's the truth. So guys: we're back on schedule (i.e. updates every (other) day). For real this time. **


	17. Chapter 16

**Cupid's Bow**

**Chapter 16**

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Walking quite-a-bit-but-not-completely naked through an absurd amount of greenery, holding hands with not-quite-but-completely naked, and _sparkling_, one of Them, I have a bizarre moment of perspective. Stepping outside of myself for a minute, I see myself through third person back on Earth, doing everything the antithesis of this, handing out parcels and delivering holograms, worrying about losing merit points, listening but never really _saying_ anything.

And then I drop myself back here, to wandering through undecided routes, eating and drinking and washing when my body decides, not monitoring, and for once, being the most talkative person around.

Impossible to be quelled, a small, disbelieving laugh bubbles behind my lips, making them tremble before they spill. When Edward looks at me, golden-green swirling with _why_, one laugh turns into two, and then two into three, until all I can taste is incredulity and… relief?

_Why didn't I do this sooner? _

The airwaves rattle and the tone deepens when Edward starts laughing, too. Tipping his head down towards me, I tip mine up to see gentle crinkles softening his eyes and, irrespective of his usual glimmering, a glow which encompasses his smile and makes my stomach do tickly little flips.

I realise the same thing I did when I first saw him: _he's something more. _

But now I also realise that I… I _like_ it.

**OoOoOo**

**OoOoOoOo**

**OoOoOo**

"What is it?"

Stopping dead still in the green, Edward's eyes narrow into slits as his gaze pans from left to right, left, to right. Nervously, my hand beginning to sweat a little in his, I do the same, but see nor hear anything. "Edward?"

After a minute a silence, Edward abruptly releases my hand and tugs me to his side. I fall against him with a squeak, and my hair drips into my eyes, but that still doesn't prevent me from seeing the tightly packed greenery in front of us, and how it suddenly starts to _rustle_.

I freeze.

Edward mutters something under his breath I don't quite catch, only a moment before something pops out of the green.

Or _someone_, I should say.

I watch in shock as a tall, slender body steps out into our line of view, flesh curved and sleek, so unlike Edward's, but sort of like mine, only less stumpy. Glancing up, I'm met with ice blue eyes I can see so vividly see even across the distance and a long stretch of colourful hair – probably the most colourful I've ever seen, next to Edward's.

My mind flashes back to the four I'd first seen upon arriving, and I realise that this is, without a doubt, a female one of Them.

"Edward," she murmurs, voice light and airy.

_Edward_ sighs. "Tanya."

I blink quickly, looking up at Edward and then back to _Tanya_ in quick succession, at a loss.

I think I'm still not okay with being outnumbered.

She takes slow but purposeful steps forward, making me shrink into Edward's side. Thankfully, he doesn't push me away, not that I expect him to really, but winds his arm around me a little more and pulls me tighter against him. His skin is hot but not clammy, and his palm is large and covering quite a bit, if not all, of the bare skin at my waist and stomach.

That probably would have freaked me out a couple of hours ago. Now, it just makes me feel relieved.

I watch her watch him, and then I watch him watch her. They're not talking _out loud, _but by their facial expressions I can tell that they _are_ communicating – just differently to how I would.

The silence, then, feels weighted.

But eventually it's broken.

"Inamorata?" she murmurs again, voice almost hypnotically soft. My eyes widen when she nods her head towards me, her eyes flicking my way for a second.

"No." I can't quite pin-point the tone of Edward's voice, and when I glance up, his face is just as unreadable.

In reply, Tanya's eyebrows lift, and her gaze darts back to me for a second, eyes assessing before they widen just a fraction. "_Soul_?" she asks, voice somehow both louder and quieter this time.

Edward doesn't reply, but his hold on me tightens to the point where my cheek doesn't have any other choice but to press against his chest.

I have absolutely _no_ idea what's going on.

Inamorata? Soul? _What_?

"Soul?" she asks again, eyes narrowing.

I don't know why I'm holding my breath.

Underneath my cheek, Edward's chest expands as he breathes in deeply, and his voice is a shuddering-rumble when he murmurs, "No."

Don't know what to make of his tone then, either.

Opposite, Tanya raises a brow in what looks like scepticism, but I couldn't really say. But at any rate, she seems satisfied with his answer, because she nods her head and then smiles, _widely_.

I want her to leave, but unfortunately, she does the opposite.

She starts coming _closer_.

Unease churns in my stomach as her eyes once again shift to mine, but this time stay. Her graceful movements seem somehow more purposeful than before as she draws nearer, and I shy into Edward as she stops directly in front of us.

I flinch violently when I feel her hand on my skin, but Edward's already pulling me away before I can do it myself.

My front is plastered to his in a second, my chest against his stomach and my cheek and ear smooshed against his chest; the rumbling coming from him is so loud it almost drowns out the close sound of his fast-beating heart.

My whole body vibrates with his trembling.

In the distance, I hear a tinkling, amused laugh.

"Soul," I think I hear her mutter, before she and her laughter fade away altogether – leaving nothing but confusion and desperate embraces in her wake.

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**A/N: I have it on good authority that Edward thinks Tanya is a bit of a shit. And yes, I chose "inamorata" because it sounded fancy. It just means: female lover (in case you didn't know ****– which I didn't. Thanking you, Mr. Thesaurus). **


	18. Chapter 17

**Cupid's Bow**

**Chapter 17**

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The air around us remains tense for as long as Edward's body does.

In terms of minutes, I don't know how many pass – haven't done since they pushed me over the edge. But it's long enough for my hovering arms to grow awkward and achy, for my skin to dampen where it's stuck to his, and for embarrassment over this fact to creep in.

"Edward." I say it so quietly I'm not sure he hears. But his arms tighten around me a fraction, as if in answer, so I guess he does. I pause after that though, not sure what I can say to loosen his hold, because even though he's not trembling anymore, it doesn't feel like he's going to let go anytime soon.

Lifting my slightly-shaking arms from mid-air, I hesitantly touch my fingertips to the warm skin of his back. His entire body jolts in reply and I freeze, worried I shouldn't have done that.

But then –

"Bel-la," he croaks out, his voice gravelly, like the texture of Earth ground. "Bel-la s-stay."

My eyes widen in reply, feeling the ache in my limbs radiate towards my chest. I can taste the beats of my erratic heart when I whisper back, "I'm right here." And what's more – "She's gone now." It's not much of a guess to pinpoint… _Tanya_ as the source of his unease; she's the source of mine, too. Not just because of her physicality or the fact that she touched me, but also because of what she said.

_What did it mean?_

"It's… it's okay," I murmur clumsily, when Edward starts shaking again. I'm not used to comforting people or… making them feel better, or even _okay_. But… I don't know. I realise then that's exactly what Edward's been doing for me since I was dropped here and… _I don't know_, I guess I can't just, I have to…

I close my eyes and take a step outside of my brain, letting my fingertips turn into whole hands, until I'm just sort of… rubbing my palms up and down his back. It's pretty obvious that They communicate much more, ah, physically rather than via speech. So I touch him instead of speaking, and take his trembles until they're mine, too.

The oppressive heat of the sun fades away after a while, leaving the world calm and peaceful behind my closed lids. I can suddenly feel the aloe cool and fresh on my neck, even though it must have been applied hours ago now. My stomach stops quivering and my arms are just sort of holding on now, feeling warm-smooth-solid beneath my arms and chest and cheek.

My mind grows hazy, but deliciously so. I rub my cheek against his warm-smooth-solid because I feel warm-smooth-soft, and my skin is blurred and liquefied, seeking the clear lines and panes of his.

Vaguely, and after a moment, I feel the heat around my waist disappear, but before my eyes can struggle open, it surrounds me again, tenfold. We might be moving, but I'm too relaxed to move, too comfortable to check.

So instead I just turn my head inwards and rest my palm on warm, hearing beats and feeling heat, until I drift away, slow and soft.

**OoOoOo**

**OoOoOoOo**

**OoOoOo**

Drowsily, I blink my eyes open.

For a minute my mind is blank, and I can only remember as much as I can feel. I'm warm and sleepy, and my eyes won't stay open for the life of me. In the dim my breaths are deep and even, and the ground underneath me is so soft it feels like I'm lying on about ten duvets.

Basically, I don't want to move. Ever.

So I just lie there for a bit, forgetting where _there_ is and just enjoying the boneless feel of my limbs for a bit. Rushing into awareness has never seemed less appealing, so I don't.

It takes me a minute but then –

_That's_ what shocks me back into reality.

We don't get to _stay_ asleep, and we don't wake up on our own accord.

So this time, I force my eyelids to stay open, even though the desire to let them fall back closed makes my eyes burn a little bit. The light I see is a dead giveaway, and everything over the past couple of the days comes rushing back – all at once and too quickly.

I shut my eyes again and bang my head on the soft, grateful that the light seems somehow… _less_ today.

The warmth I hadn't noticed behind me stirs, and I freeze.

I hear a groan and look down as the shimmering arm wrapped around me flexes, stretching out across my stomach and settling there. I automatically tense under his touch, feeling myself flood with butterflies at the sensation of his skin on mine. _Everywhere_.

_Right_. I'm sort-of naked, remember? _Right_.

And so is he. _Right_.

Closing my eyes again, I give my head a small, but rattling, shake. _I'm over the naked issue_, I tell myself. _Over. It. _

He murmurs out a hum, and then I feel his nose in my hair. He breathes and breathes and breathes, and so do I.

I think –

_We fell asleep again?_

_Where did yesterday go?_

And then, of course, I remember.

_Inamorata? Soul? _

"Bel-la," he murmurs, and I remember the hazy fog that had encompassed me yesterday and I wonder if I was just really, really tired, or if it was something else?

Then I give my head another shake because _I'm sick of asking myself questions. _

Carefully, I grasp his hand in mine and slowly ease out from his little nook. I scoot forward and then spin around, curling in on myself as I face him, trying to hide skin he's seen all of already.

He lies on his back, head turned to the side, watching me.

My cheeks redden so I duck down a little to rub the suddenly warm skin against my shoulder, like I can rub the colour away. To avoid looking at him, I let my eyes wander the space we're in, noticing the slightly darker tinge to the light. I peer up and see green above us, likely blocking out much of the sun. I look back down again, across the space, and notice only a tiny shallow – matching the small area we're in.

It feels hidden; we do.

I clear my throat. Twice. "It's nice here," I say lamely. "Um… not so bright."

Silence. I glance at him to see him watching me intently; golden-green searing. I look away quickly, clasping my hands together and twiddling my thumbs. Something feels different, something _is_ different, but I don't know why.

Out of my peripheral, I watch him rise, but only slightly. He sits cross-legged on the soft opposite me, and I just about see his hand run through his hair, combing back wayward strands, or at least _attempting_ to. The glimmers dancing along his arms and chest catch the corners of my eyes and pull my head up. I don't realise I'm staring until my gaze eventually makes its way back to his, and he's staring right back.

Startled, I almost trip over myself as I dart up and dash over to the little pond on the other side (no where near deep enough to trip and drown in, thank goodness), just about muttering _water_ as I go.

I drink away the dryness in my throat, definitely _not_ shaking when I feel him come up behind me, spreading what I know must be aloe all over what must be new burns; on my neck, shoulders and back.

He breathes and breathes and breathes, and so do I.

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**A/N: Eeep. Sorry it's a tad late. This story will be ending soon and it's making me a little sad.  
**


	19. Chapter 18

** Cupid's Bow**

**Chapter 18**

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Our journey has slowed.

Walking through the endless streams of greenery, as I've grown accustomed to now, maybe it should be impossible to tell the speed of our steps, as continuous as the land is. At first, I only notice it because _I'm_ the one doing it.

Every time a new colour pops up through the emerald, I point at each flower and ask what they're called (on Earth, you'd be lucky if you saw a buttercup peeking up through the cracks in the pavement), and Edward answers readily at each turn; tulips, roses, daffodils, forget-me-nots, geraniums, crocuses, carnations… the colours and shapes and sizes are endless. As he lists, I find myself looking forward to seeing more with every step, frequently stopping to stroke the soft petals, and, at Edward's prompting, _smell_ them.

And then I become aware of Edward's tactics, mainly, his pace slows down. A lot.

Night falls three more times.

Logic tells me to stop delaying. My mind asks me _why_ I am.

My heart beats quietly in reply, and in the night-time hours, staring up at the star-studded sky, it stutters over memories of my life, before.

Most of the time, I remember being alone.

And I fall asleep to aches in my chest, which run into my feet during the daytime, slowing me down.

**OoOoOo**

**OoOoOoOo**

**OoOoOo**

We stop to drink and eat (and bathe, in Edward's case, though I settle for the decidedly safer option – in more way than one – of bringing the water to me, instead of going into it) multiple times throughout a single day. In terms of food, despite me telling Edward the round-pink weren't bad, just that I ate too many, he doesn't bring me anymore of those. Instead, I found myself awash in an overwhelming splurge of yellows and oranges, purples and reds. Everything we eat is so… _vivid_, and _tasty_, that it makes it hard not to eat lots. The thought of being sick again soon slows me down though.

Today, I stare eagerly at Edward's cupped hands as he drops down in front of me. Without monitoring, I feel hungrier than ever. Or I guess I'd always had pains in my stomach before, it's just that I was used to them going unfulfilled.

Down here, I definitely don't have that problem.

Edward's hands are piled high with oranges and reds. Carefully, he lowers his hands to the soft and relinquishes the food. Peeking up through his hair at me, he holds up one of the shiny red pieces.

"Apple," he says slowly.

"Apple," I mimic.

Smiling, he hands the "apple" to me, which I accept all too eagerly. We'd incorporated this into our daily routine. It had started with the flowers, but had branched out to pretty much everything else. I wanted to know because I was so used to _not_ knowing, and thankfully, Edward didn't seem to mind humouring me.

I take a bite, and a delighted squeak escapes me as my mouth is immediately filled with fresh and crisp and sweet.

Edward's smile turns into a grin, and I feel my cheeks heat up in embarrassment. "Sorry," I mutter, dropping my eyes and swallowing.

He just shakes his head at me in reply, reaching a hand out and thumbing away some of the juice that had spilled from the apple onto my chin. I just burn hotter.

His touches, I still hadn't grown used to those.

Keeping my eyes away from his, I pick up one of the round orange pieces and hold it in my palm. It feels… squidgy. Kind of… strange.

"Orange," Edward supplies from above and I nod absently… and then the name registers.

I peek up at him curiously. "_Orange_?"

He nods.

So, shrugging, I lift the soft feeling _orange_ to my mouth and am about to take a bite when –

"No!"

I jump, startled, my head snapping up in surprise at Edward's exclamation.

Seeing my widened eyes, his own soften. "Sorry," he repeats one of my often uttered phrases, shuffling a little closer. Watching me, he slowly reaches out, leaving the orange laying in my palm as he slices its skin… pulling it away to reveal about ten separate segments inside.

"No eat," he explains, holding the peel in his palm.

"Oh," I reply sheepishly. "Sorry."

He just smiles.

I slowly pull an orange slice away from the rest, periodically darting my eyes up to Edward's, making sure I can at least do this right. I let it rest against my bottom lip for a minute before opening my mouth. I put half of the segment in and then let my teeth cut through its soft skin.

Some of the juice erupts in my mouth, and it's sweet and tangy. I get to enjoy that for about half a second before I realise that the rest of the juice has just gone –

_Everywhere_.

I squeak indignantly as the orange splits in half and runs its juice down my hand, saturating my palm and sliding down my wrist. It spills out from my lips, cold chasing cold as it rolls down my chin and neck, slipping onto my chest unapologetically.

Gaping, I look down, realising that in my mini explosion I'd accidentally tightened my hand around the rest of the orange sitting in my palm, so now my whole left hand is dripping, too.

Slowly, I lift my head, meeting Edward's gaze dumbly; my mouth still hanging open.

Silence for a minute, and Edward's eyes are wide.

And then –

Then they're not. Then they're all crinkled up because he's _laughing_, really, properly _laughing_.

It's not hard to guess at _what_.

I huff as I watch him throw his head back, his lips stretched wide and his shoulders shaking as he releases his humour into the airwaves. I try to frown, try to remain stern and annoyed at his laughter at my expense, but I can't do it, I just _can't_.

The corners of my lips tip up.

I duck my head down to hide my smile, hearing his, and watch the now sad looking orange leak its juices between my fingertips onto the soft below. A giggle springs forth before I can stop it – at the situation, myself… and because Edward's happiness is catching.

"Bel-la," Edward chokes out between giggles, his finger tipping my juice-covered chin up. His eyes are bright and shiny with humour.

I bite my lip, because the smile on my face is so big it's painful. "I don't think oranges are for me, huh?" In example, I lift my dripping hand, turning my head to wipe my wet chin on my shoulder.

All too late I realise that was a bad idea, because this juice? It's _sticky_.

"Ick." My nose wrinkles as I flex the hand not holding the orange, feeling my fingers gloop together unpleasantly.

Still lightly chuckling, Edward relieves me of the orange, taking it from my hand and placing it beside him. He picks up both of my hands then – sticky gloopy mess and all – and grins at me.

"Sticky," I say needlessly, nose still wrinkling. My eyes drift over to one of the pools. "I think I need to – "

My words break off with a gasp.

I turn my head back round so quickly I'm pretty sure I get whiplash.

Edward has my _fingers_ in his _mouth_.

In. His. Mouth.

I gape.

I feel his tongue swirl around my fingertips as he gently sucks, licking away the residual juice on my skin. My face burns as I watch him, my stomach doing weird little tickly flips – not for the first time since being here – at the strangely… _pleasant_ sensation.

Then he hums, and everything in me just _vibrates_.

"Edward," I gasp, unwittingly, and his eyes flick to mine, his cheeks lifting and his gaze crinkling. His tongue makes one last swipe before he releases me… only to go onto my other hand.

My arm jerks as I watch his lips close around me again, not knowing whether I'm trying to pull away or if just the feeling of it makes me jolt. Probably both. Not that it matters anyway, because his hand encloses around my wrist, gently keeping me in place.

He hums again, like he likes the taste, and his eyes flutter closed.

I make a noise in the back of my throat, and I almost swallow my tongue.

When he's satisfied, he slowly pulls back, eyes re-opening with his smile. I just stare at him dumbly, kind of stuck in place. At moments like these, it's never clearer that we're from two different worlds, with two _vastly_ different operating systems and social norms.

"Um," I squeak, when he carries on looking at me. "Thank you?"

He blinks at me, then looks down at my hands again, eyes running up and down my arms. I peer down, too; I look trembly.

I _feel_ it when he lifts my arm again, and places his mouth on my wrist.

I grapple for sanity when he drags his lips down towards my elbow, sucking sticky-juice up as he goes. I feel hot and breathless and my heart is _pounding_ and I _can't stop looking_ at his mouth on my skin; his so-red lips.

My mouth floods with saliva when he pulls away again, his gaze on my chin, then my neck, then my…

He starts to lean forward.

More than a little aware of his destination, and intent, I quickly pull my shaky legs out from under me and stand, spinning away.

I leave him, startled, on the soft.

I stand at the edge of a pool, flushed… with the realisation a part of me didn't want him to stop.

.

.

.

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**A/N: Et tu, Bel-la? Sorry this is late. **_**Again**_**. I give up on me. I thank you for not doing the same.**


	20. Chapter 19

**Cupid's Bow**

**Chapter 19**

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We're settling down for our sixth night of sleep – I've grown used to resting out in the open, probably because the soft is more comfortable than any bed I've slept on before – when Edward unexpectedly blurts out – "Thing."

Startled, my recently shut eyes snap open, and I stare at the darkness in front of me, heart racing.

The Thing? It's here? _Now_?

Tremulous, I whisper, "What?"

"Thing," Edward repeats from close behind me. "F-find thing… tomorrow."

_Tomorrow_, he'd said that the first night. I had wanted it to be true then, but that 'tomorrow' had never surfaced. Now, there seems to be something different about the way he says it, not that I'd have a clue how to define it. And now, I'm not sure I…

"Bel-la," Edward says softly, thankfully interrupting my fragments before they can become thoughts. I feel his hand on my shoulder, and the heat from his palm distracts me, makes me pliant to his gentle persistence. I'm rolled over from my side onto my back, and even though it's dark, the gleam from his eyes is clear. "Bel-la f…find thing… Bel-la g-go… home?"

I blink up at him, finding his words strange – too familiar. I'd been repeating that mantra in my head for a while and then I'd just… stopped. _When_ had I stopped?

"Yes," I tell him, quietly, still blinking.

The gleam lessens – dims. "Bel-la home… n-not here?"

I blink up at him some more, wondering about his sudden insightfulness. And then, unbidden, my mind tumbles over moments – so many in such a short space of time – of exactly this. With a start I realise I'm only recognising it now because he's being so suddenly verbal with it. Guilt rears with the realisation that my prejudices had discredited him – _again_. His actions had always been as meaningful as my speech, and I hadn't really understood that before now.

In the end, all I can do is shake my head, _no_.

The gleam in his eyes disappears.

His reply is a whispered, "Oh."

A tightness forms in my stomach as he disappears from view, which steadily migrates to rough beats in my chest, packing it full of tight, insurmountable knots as I stare up at the sheltering trees above. _I wonder if he'd find these little nooks of privacy to sleep in I weren't tagging along with him_, I think, and then answer myself a second later, _no, he probably wouldn't._

The tangled mess in my chest moves up to my throat, making it thick with feeling. Turning my head to the side, I squeeze my eyes shut and fist my hands into the soft, echoes of _Thing_ and _home_ and _oh_ ricocheting around in my mind. I breathe and breathe and breathe, matching it to the other I can hear in the space.

He's near, even though I can't see him. I know this because he always sticks closer than usual in the dark.

I've never told him, but I'm glad. The night-time here is complete pitch – full in a way not present on Earth. So it's comforting to feel more keenly that I'm not completely alone in the dark, despite what my eyes see, or actually, _don't_.

Unexpectedly, I feel his hand on my stomach, but before I can so much as _blink_ in surprise I'm on my side again, my face cocooned in Edward's neck and his arms around me like two securing vines.

My breathing stutters before it stops all together.

Probably feeling the sudden tenseness in my body, he makes soft shushing sounds before letting one of his hands sink into my hair, his fingers doing ridiculously good feeling things to my scalp. Breathing returns with a quiet gasp, and I let myself melt.

My body is sponge-soft in his arms.

The need to _get away_, to be _untouched_ is absent. It was never a question on Earth, to be held or hugged, because there was never a need for it. We could be grouped or we could be singular, but we could never be… _together_ – not like this.

Edward doesn't say a word as his body twines with mine, heating it in places I never knew were cold. The guilty part of me is glad for his silence, because now I can't help but think that his speech has only ever been for my sake; to communicate _with_ me.

"I'm sorry," I whisper into his neck, tensing despite myself.

"Shh," is Edward's hushed reply, gentle as the fingers combing through my hair.

In the dark, I find my bravery. Carefully wiggling my hands out from where they'd been trapped between us, I – tentatively, at first – wind my arms around his shoulders. I let my fingers touch his skin, finding it cooler under the stars than the sun, but just as smooth; lines forming under my fingertips, firm slopes of muscle elongated by his stature.

In the dark, I do as Edward always does; I speak through touch.

**OoOoOo**

**OoOoOoOo**

**OoOoOo**

The morning comes, bright and hot as always.

Blinking my eyes open against the light, I find myself momentarily confused by the clammy-closeness of my skin. Bewildered, I blink multiple times, trying to clear the fog.

Light tickles on my back and shoulder. Wrinkling my nose in distaste, I shrug a little, shifting my body as I try to –

"Bel-la awake." Husky, deep, _amused_.

I freeze.

_Oh_, I mouth… into his neck. _Edward's_ neck.

My arms are still twined about him, but my hands must have migrated north sometime during the night, as now they're sunk deep into the soft strands of his hair. I don't need to look to know the position of my body, and the position of his, because my skin is superimposed with feeling.

My legs, his legs. My chest, his chest. My hands, his hair. His hands, my back. My face, his neck. His face, my hair…

"I – I'm awake," I mumble pointlessly, not knowing whether it's an indirect: _let me up!_ Or a lamentation over that fact.

I can feel Edward's hum; it vibrates against my cheek and makes goosebumps pop up everywhere. Rather than moving, as I expect him _and_ me to do, his hands just slide into my hair again, making my eyes almost cross at how nice it feels.

"Gah," I gabble-moan, my hands automatically tightening in Edward's own hair.

Still bleary from sleep and touching, my mind wanders away from itself and is replaced with a warm, fuzzy sensation. My sigh is long and weighted as it drifts across his neck, my hands clammy and slipping through a different kind of soft.

"Bel-la," Edward murmurs, his lips a feather-soft brush against my ear and then we're suddenly up, and I'm weightless for a minute.

When we resurface, he's hugging me tight, a million and one different words in his touch.

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**A/N: *hugs you all tightly***


	21. Chapter 20

**Cupid's Bow**

**Chapter 20**

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We're silent that morning.

My warming daze couldn't last forever, so at last when we'd separated, I'd had a whole body blush as I stumbled over to a small pool. The water sizzled on my skin upon meeting, over and over again, like I was burning on the inside – feeling both nice and not, both hot and cold.

"Stop it," I'd whispered, palming my red, red cheeks. "Just stop."

When I'd gathered myself as much as I could, I'd turned around and walked back to Edward. He was sitting where I'd left him. One hand was clutching his chest, the other, floating mid-air, a phantom grasp.

Hesitantly, I'd lifted a hand, gingerly laid it on his hot shoulder. "Edward?"

His furrowed brows and shadowed gaze had lifted, at my call or touch, or both. Slowly, he had lifted his head, and my breath caught at the wide-wet of his eyes.

He'd smiled, sadly, and nodded his head.

Then he rose, tall and strong, looking down at me with eyes so full it rattled me to my core. Green and gold spun from his gaze, weaving together like glittered pools of thread, tangling my feet and rooting me here, _always_.

He'd touched my cheek, hands so gentle.

I wanted to say . . . but my throat had tightened to the point of pain.

Then his fingers had slipped and so had his eyes, snapping threads that could only ever be: _temporary_.

So now as we walk, we're silent; in words and glances and touches.

And I know, without a doubt, that this is what dread feels like.

**OoOoOo**

**OoOoOoOo**

**OoOoOo**

It feels like we've been walking for only a minute when he stops in front of some greenery.

I stare at it with ill-concealed feeling. As soon as he pushes it aside, I'll find the Thing, and what choice will I have but to collect it, and return to Earth?

I know what I must do, but I don't relish the thought. Not like I did when I was dropped here, just shy of a week ago.

I pull my gaze away from leafy green to a more complex hue. Edward's gaze is fixed on mine, frozen, and I can see his panic just as clearly as I can feel mine. My mind just needs to trip, to stumble over into the realm of _why_, but instead I leap forward, and _I_ hug _him_.

"Thank you," I whisper, leaning up on my tiptoes so I'm closer to his ear. "For everything."

And slowly, his tense body uncoils beneath mine, and then his arms are slipping around my waist. My toes falter, and my feet fall into the soft, but it doesn't matter because he comes with me.

I squeeze him so tightly, wanting him to understand, but the comfort of this touching is two way. It makes me ache – bittersweet – with the thought of holding on, and letting go.

Tears spring so I close my eyes, but they dribble past my lashes, falling from my own skin to sink into his. "I won't forget you," I promise with a tremor. And I won't. Because his whole existence, his essence, has made me _better_. Their teachings are _not_ infallible, and neither are their truths. Edward is a prime example of that, and he opened my eyes – stopped me from seeing blind – without even intending to do so.

It's not just false-thinking he's disbanded, either, but the idea of good and bad. There is no set way to _be_, and that's not wrong. There's truth and there's kindness, and far from restricting me it's made me feel . . . it's made me _feel_. I've laughed, I've eaten ridiculously good tasting things and I've slept under the stars. I've been touched and hugged and held and done all in return, and it never felt like anything pointless. To Edward, it _is_ a need, and to everyone else on this whole bloody planet. And it's not scandalous and they're not beasts for doing it. It's just how they are. It's their: _how to be._

And I'm crying because I'm going to miss it.

Because this is _goodbye_.

I give him one last squeeze, so hard it aches, before unwinding my arms from around him. My gaze tips to the ground as his arms reluctantly break away from me, because as nice as the truth can be, it can also hurt.

His eyes, I imagine, are tangled threads, and I can't watch them fray.

So I take a step back and I turn, fingers running through green.

I won't make him do this: the weight of this will be mine.

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**A/N: Short and achy: sorry. But needs must.  
**


	22. Chapter 21

**Cupid's Bow**

**Chapter 21**

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My mouth drops as soon as I step through the green.

Everything I've seen thus far, whilst being foreign, has been expected. I'd seen the brochures and what they advertised, which was everything opposite of Earth. But I'd never seen or heard anyone mention something like _this_.

In piles as high as some of our buildings, and spanning the width of about twenty, stands an enormous mass of… _things_.

Unconsciously, I take a step back, suddenly worried that they're going to topple over.

But Edward's body is firm behind me. "Okay," he murmurs, hand on my waist. "Safe."

I swallow, my eyes impossibly wide. "It doesn't… it doesn't look very stable." Yanking my gaze away, I drop my eyes to the barest bit of soft I can see beneath me – the rest having been cluttered by things. "Maybe we should… turn back."

Silence for a beat, and then –

"Bel-la… Bel-la not find Thing?"

I bite down on the inside of my cheek so hard I draw blood. The copper taste flooding my mouth only serves to heighten the jitters trembling in my chest, drawing me both forward and backward. Because suddenly, the span stretched out in front of me is too great. I thought that I would know the Thing on sight, but seeing all of this now, I realise that I don't stand a chance. And I… I don't know how to feel about that_. I_ _don't know._

Lifting a hand, I press it against my chest, trying to shove down the panic – the push and pull that's yanking my heart to and fro.

I breathe and breathe and breathe, matching each inhale and exhale in time to Edward's.

And then I say, "Okay." I say, "Thing."

And I walk in.

**OoOoOo**

**OoOoOoOo**

**OoOoOo**

After a while, I manage to stop constantly looking at the piles of things in paranoia. Though I still check every ten minutes or so to make sure nothing is swaying in the almost non-existent wind.

Edward picks his way through the mess like he's done it a hundred times before, which I guess might not be that far off. He never wanders too far out of sight though, for which I'm grateful. If one of these things were to collapse on top of me and he wasn't in seeing-distance, then I don't think I'd ever be found again.

For me, I cautiously sift my way through, picking up things that I've never seen before and not having a clue what they're supposed to be for. My insides are still resisting one another, unsure, and as the day grows hotter and hotter, I pick and drop things with an increasing sense of futility. Everything looms high and long and stretched out in front of me, and I _can't_ and I _don't want to_ and I _just don't understand._

I let out a frustrated groan, burying my head in my hands and hiding from the sun; the bright light that shows everything too clearly.

Quiet footsteps pick their way over to me, and I can only tell because of all the stuff he must have to tread in between and knock – only slightly – to reach me.

I feel the heat of his body when he crouches down next to me. His hand encircles my knee, softly stroking.

"This is hopeless," I whisper into my palms. "It'll take months to look through all this – years, maybe. And I have no idea what I'm supposed to be looking for in the first place!"

My frustration paints the silence for a minute, leaking into pores and turning my skin a blotchy red. Heightened emotion makes my eyes sting, so I close them.

"Edward help," he whispers back, and my heart gives a little painful tug.

Pulling my hands away from my face, I glance up at him. Guilt rears and snaps at me as I take note of the naked sadness on his face. "Sorry," I say quietly, dropping my eyes and lifting a hand to wipe away the remnants of my pity party, but he stops me before I can. His fingertips feather across my skin, soaking up tears, and I sigh.

In silence, he drops his hand from my face and starts looking.

**OoOoOo**

**OoOoOoOo**

**OoOoOo**

The sun is close to setting before I find something that makes me pause.

Whatever it is is small – fitting between my two hands comfortably – and rectangular in shape. The corners are softly sloped instead of squared, and there are intricate drawings of flowers on top of its smooth, brown surface. I think that's what makes me stop – the fact that I recognise the shape and shade of some of the petals, thanks to Edward.

_Chrysanthemum,_ I think, tracing a fingertip over the layered flower head before moving to the next. _Elderflower._

"Music box."

Startled – it's the first time he's spoken in a few hours – the box tumbles from my fingers and lands upside down on the soft. I lift my eyes to his to find him looking at me sheepishly. "Sorry."

I smile back weakly before darting my gaze away again.

Reaching across me, he picks it up and . . . opens it.

"Music box," he repeats softly as a tiny figurine pops out. His fingers retreat to behind it where he fiddles with something for a second before the delicate little person starts moving, and sound – unlike any I've ever heard before – fills the air.

Frozen, my body grows at once still and trembling as the sweet sound twirls across the breeze and up to me. I watch the little figurine spin before my eyes close on their own accord, just wanting to soak up as much of it as I can. It's the most fragile, hypnotising thing I've ever heard.

When it's over, the silence it's left behind seems both purposeful and mournful; a lamentation.

Edward is gazing at me when I finally open my eyes, head tilted to the side.

"What . . . " I breathe-say, still hearing the delicate melody echoing in my ears. "What was that?"

"Music box," he says slowly, for the third time, his gaze clouding just slightly. "Music . . . " he trails off, his eyes suddenly widening before he shakes his head, as if in disbelief. "Bel-la . . . not used to?"

I shake my head dazedly, looking back down at the little wonder in his hands. _Music_. "Never."

He just stares at me in reply, a look of utter bewilderment on his face. I have to press my lips together to hold back my smile.

Carefully, he sets the music box down back on the soft and, before I can so much as blink, he's grasping my hands and pulling me to my feet.

"Music," he says, eyes alight with excitement as he starts stepping backwards, tugging me gently forward so that I match him step for step. "Edward music… home. Bel-la come."

I follow him for a few paces in surprise, and frankly, a little bit of wonderment at the fresh coat of colour in his eyes. But then I stumble, because I'm not watching my feet, and I stop.

"Wait," I breathe, glancing down at the thing I tripped over. It too, is unrecognisable to me. My eyes shift to the left, the right, and then up. All that stuff. All those _things_. A glance behind me at the progress we made this afternoon seems suddenly pitiful; a tiny trickle sorted from a vast ocean. As soon as we leave, I know that it'll just get swallowed back up by the sea again.

My heart picks up pace in my chest again, still so quick, still unsure.

"Bel-la," Edward says quietly, interrupting my turmoil. I turn my eyes back to him and notice the glimmer in his eyes has dimmed again – like when this day first begun, like the night before it. "Come… come back." He watches me carefully, his hands gently squeezing mine. "Tomorrow."

_We'll find the thing tomorrow? _

Was tomorrow _really_ tomorrow this time?

Did I want it to be?

I can only think in moments, and right in this one, I know what my answer is.

Taking a deep breath, I let my eyes close only for a second. When I reopen them, I let Edward's hands go.

I step back once, twice, three times.

Edward's hands linger in the air a minute before dropping, following the path of his gaze. His down turned head makes light-soaked tips of colour fall over his forehead, and I focus on the fallen pieces of his hair as I lean down, pick up the music box, and walk back over to him.

He jolts slightly when I slip my hand into his, his gaze snapping to mine, lighting back up.

I clasp music and flowers to my chest with one hand and press my palm to his with the other.

And I whisper, "Tomorrow."

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**A/N: Ways in which this fic is similar to Game of Thrones: winter has been coming for five seasons, tomorrow has been coming for twenty one chapters. **

**RL world prioritised itself for a bit, but it's all (mostly) good now. Thanks for sticking with me! Only a couple more chapters to go now... **


	23. Chapter 22

**Cupid's Bow**

**Chapter 22**

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Edward's home turns out to be very near the place full of Things, as in, it only take us – what feels like – twenty or so minutes to reach it, instead of a few days.

When the sloping roof and red, red bricks come into view, my eyes widen.

When he said he'd had a home, I hadn't been expecting something like this, something so, well, _structured_. They were content to sleep under the stars – not that I'm judging that, at least not now – so how could I have expected something like this? But it's not just that. On Earth, our buildings touch the sky. Even at the lower levels, our houses are neatly stacked in long, straight lines, with flat roofs that stand open and bare to the rain and sun. I hadn't really thought about it before, but now, seeing Edward's home, there's an undoubtedly eerie sameness to ours.

_Theirs_.

My eyes widen as my mind corrects itself.

Next to me, Edward lets out an audible exhale as he stares at his home, eyes overwhelmingly golden in the setting sun. My chest gives a funny little spasm at the unobscured joy in his gaze. I'd never seen anyone look at their house like that. A building's just a building, right?

Until – until it isn't.

Soft eyes turn from red brick to me, and my heart ricochets like a drumbeat when his look doesn't dissipate, but grows warmer.

"Home," is all he says.

**OoOoOo**

**OoOoOoOo**

**OoOoOo**

Inside, Edward's home is even more deceiving.

It's smaller – by a huge degree – than Earth's buildings, and there don't seem to be any stairs or lifts signalling another floor. But its size and height, or lack thereof, are not what halts me in the threshold.

There are Things. _Everywhere_.

Small Things occupy counters and tables, covering the surface-span so much that if I couldn't see the bases supporting the room's furnishings, I'd swear they didn't even exist; that they were just an amalgamation of _Things_. Medium sized Things recline against walls and large sized Things are seemingly content to occupy the space without needing help from anything else.

The sheer volume of it all makes my breath skitter, makes me stumble back a step – feet hitting soft – as I attempt to quash down the sudden panic spiralling up inside of me. I clutch the music box to me so tightly I imagine it leaves an impression on my heart.

Edward's back is to me – I think he's placing or fiddling with something on a shelf – so he can't see my little spaz out. I try to calm my breathing, but my eyes won't stop darting to the left and right of me, unwittingly seeking everything out. I'm just about to snap my eyes shut when the sight of something catches me eye and I –

I freeze.

My quickened breathing stalls off into nothing as I try to make sense of what I'm seeing. A small, square shaped book, leaning up against a set of similarly shaped books, sits harmlessly in the centre of – what looks like – a partially obscured window. It's blue and parades a picture of the ocean on the front with the words – "SEAS OF THE WORLD" splayed across it. And I pause, because I _recognise_ that book.

I blink and blink and _blink_ in disbelief.

Edward turns around. Dimly, I'm aware of him saying my name, but I'm too focused on the book to hear him properly. My ears are flooding, rushing, like when I fell into the pool. Like water.

Slowly, my feet tread their way past the threshold, and amid all that clutter I don't even stumble. My vision tunnels, making it easy for me to see past everything else. Then in no time at all I'm standing before the book, and I remember just in time that I'm holding the music box to place it down gently onto the crammed counter.

My hands tremble. I pick the book up.

I turn back the cover and there, on the first page, it sits.

_Property of Forks Institution, Earth. _

**OoOoOo**

**OoOoOoOo**

**OoOoOo**

I stare into the mirror at the other me, trying to focus both on how different I look, and how much of me seems so unaltered in comparison to the alterations in my mind.

My skin seems infused with a slight touch of golden warmth that I've never had before, and I can see the fading pink of the burns on my neck. I press against them and wince only slightly, watching it flood porcelain-white before reddening again.

But my eyes – and hair – are still the same brown. My skin, while simultaneously more ruddy and tanned, still shows the same blue veins through its surface. Maybe my lips are less chapped – free from the cold winds on Earth – and my body more prominent – shedding clothes will do that – but outwardly, the changes seem so minimal.

Inwardly…

My eyes flick over to the book I'd brought into the bathroom with me, unbidden, and then away again quickly. I let my gaze linger on the sort-of-similar fixings: the bathtub, the shower, the toilet.

When Edward had walked over to me, a question in his eyes as I clutched the book to my chest – frozen – much like I had the music box earlier on, I'd watched his lips move but heard no sound. My mind was too busy stop-starting, clambering around to make sense of what this _could_ mean, what this _did_ mean…

"I need – I need to – " I'd mumbled out, just barely, but Edward nodded like he knew. Like I was making some kind of comprehensible _sense_ right now.

He'd cupped my elbow and walked me through the mess, pulling us through another doorway that I hadn't noticed before. The only thing I could make out was that it wasn't as cluttered as the other room, but that was it. I think he gestured to something in my peripheral, but my gaze was stuck to the book in my hands. And then we were walking through another door, and then he'd said – "Bathroom," while tugging on his hair.

_That_ had pulled me from my musings.

Dumbly, I had taken in all of the features, noticing that while some things were maybe larger or smaller, and weirdly shaped, I still recognised them for what they were.

_How…?_ was my only thought before Edward was saying things like "bath" and "shower" before backing out of the room and leaving me to it.

And so here I am, studiously avoiding the book and staring at the fixtures. _They have plumbing here? How do they have plumbing here?_

Shaking away my inane thoughts, I back up slightly until my butt touches the edge of the tub. I sit and stare down at my hands, flexing and unflexing my fingers. They look the same, too.

_How can my book be here?_ I think, and then lift my gaze to look around, taking in the bronze-tipped gilded mirror and cool blue tiles. _How can it be _here?

_How did you get here?_ my mind whispers back in reply.

"They dropped me," I breathe, my gaze falling to the book on cue. "But why would they drop you?"

_Why did they drop_ you?

"To find the Thing." I stand up and walk over to the item I spent so long trawling through back on Earth. The picture of the sea on the front seems harmless enough. "It was what I was supposed to do. Be."

I flip, flip, flip through the pages, looking for any sign of… something. Like the Thing, I don't know what I'm searching for. I just hope that I know it when I see it. "They made a mistake," I mumble to myself. "My whole life was someone else's."

_Did they?_ My subconscious whispers back. _Was it? _

I frown as I think over that, my fingers flipping more rapidly over the pages. _They made a mistake_, I think, over and over, but then suddenly I'm back on Earth, where everything is set and monitored and timed. There are systems and policies and rules dressed up as guidelines. And there is the Institution, which resides over us all. And they tell us, every day, in all of this that –

_The Institution doesn't make mistakes. _

My fingers freeze too abruptly, and previously innocuous edges are suddenly sharp with intent. I gasp as my skin is sliced, and the book jerks from my grasp. Blood seeps to my skins surface immediately before dribbling down my fingertips, landing on the cool tile and clean pages, marring them red.

**.**

**.**

**.**

***~(*)~***

* * *

**A/N: So... that happened. Last bit was totally canon btw (paper can be evil sometimes). Only Bella's probably safe from any hungry vampires. Probably. But there is a sparkling one of Them chilling outside the bathroom, so...  
**


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